Love's A Game
by Karkalicious769
Summary: "The game is simple, Karkat." Dave tells you, smirking. "We start dating. Like a real couple. Hand holding, kissing, cuddling - the works." He can see that he's lost you, so he continues. "Just for seven months. We try to woo each other. And the first person to fall in love loses." You bite your lip, looking at his patient expression. You can't believe you're doing this. "Game on."
1. Wanna Play?

**A/N: This is an Earthstuck, no SBURB AU. So the humans and trolls share a planet together. Just so you guys know.**

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You remember how this shit storm all started.

You were fifteen, and starting your first day at a new high school. Your mom didn't take the loss of your dad very well, and tore up both you and your brother and moved all of you back to her home town. Why? Probably to be with her parents and assorted family members you hardly remember. The move didn't effect Kankri much, seeing as how he would be leaving for college once school started back up anyway. Yes, your perfect brother and his perfect scholarship were off at Harvard before he could even consider settling in, much less helping you adjust. You don't like change now, and you sure as fuck didn't like it then, either.

But it wasn't your call, and you were forced to attend school when it started up, even though half of your shit was still in a box somewhere in the house. You, of course, didn't much like that. A new school, new students, new teachers… and in a small town like this, they probably all know each other. You were scared to stand out - to be noticed, especially by the wrong person. That's not to say that you have social anxiety or some shit, because you don't. Any other day, and you'd cuss out anyone who so much as looked at you twice, but, well… let's just say that you had a problem with change and leave it at that.

But all that shit aside, you were actually feeling fairly stable about five minutes into your first day. It's a small school, so you didn't really need a guide, just a paper map, which you had memorized after a few glances. Your locker was easy to find and, surprisingly, wasn't jammed like your old one. You also didn't have to share it, which completely sold you on this "new school" business. You actually felt - dare you say it - _optimistic_ as you made your way to your first class.

Feeling positive proved to be a mistake.

You were used to a bigger school and didn't have any friends to talk to before class started, so you got to the classroom early. _Really_ early. You weren't expecting anyone else to be there, but as soon as you opened the door, loud, obnoxious laughter greeted your presence. It took you just a fraction of a second to figure out why people were laughing, but then gravity caught up with you, and suddenly, you were _soaked_.

And you were pissed.

Not only did you just fall victim to the most over-used prank in history, but you were also cold. The asshole who set this up didn't even have the decency to heat the water up before dumping it all over you. The bucket he had balanced above the door sat next to you on the tile floor, and you kicked it in frustration. It hit the side of the teacher's desk and sent some miscellaneous items to the floor, but you could not care less.

The other two people in the room were still laughing, and you looked up to see a boy and a girl, chortling away as if they _didn't_ just completely devastate your self-esteem within the confines of three seconds.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and a few seconds later, another boy with dark hair came skidding into the room. "What happened-?" He went to say, then stopped. He looked at you, covered with water and almost shaking from both your anger and the cold, and then at the bucket before he sighs. "Really, Dave?" He shot a glare at the blonde boy who was still laughing. The girl, at least, had the decency to stop and at least _try_ to suppress her grin. "You got the wrong person, you know." The new guy pointed out, putting a hand on your shoulder.

The blonde - Dave - finally calmed down, whipping a tear from the corner of his eye as he finally started paying attention to this new kid, who you assumed was his friend. "F-Fucking obviously, Egbert." He said with a grin. "But is it still funny? Absolutely."

Egbert (which was apparently his name?) grimaced and gave you a sympathetic look. "Are you okay?"

Somehow, you resisted the urge to give a smartass reply _and_ roll your eyes. Instead, you just went for the obvious response. "Does it fucking look like it?" Okay, maybe you lied about the smartass reply.

He smiled hesitantly, put off by your attitude, but at least glad that you weren't strangling his friend. "Sorry. Dave and Jade were trying to get me, not you. We're… kinda in the middle of a prank war." He explained. "I really am sorry, though. If you want, I have some extra clothes you can change into."

You were amazed that someone at this school was actually as polite as John was, and it annoyed you. Everything about him kind of annoyed you, but you weren't about to pass up a change of clothes. "Why do you have a change of clothes?" You asked, eyebrow raised, instead of just accepting his offer.

"With the way these two prank?" Egbert jerked his thumb in the direction of his friends. "You can never be too safe."

You nodded and sighed, brushing some of the wet hair out of your eyes. His explanation made sense, at least. "Yeah." You agreed, taking a deep breath. "A change of clothes would be great."

He smiled sympathetically, leading you out into the hallway by your elbow, when you heard someone in the other room moving. You looked back, and the girl with hair darker than Egbert's was standing behind you. "Sorry." She said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Dave won't apologize, but I will because unlike _some people_ ," She shot a pointed look in the direction of her accomplice, "I'm not a complete ass."

This statement was followed by a muffled, "fuck you, Harley" from the other room. Had you been in a mood even remotely resembling "happy" you might have laughed. But you weren't happy, and you didn't laugh. You just stared at this Harley girl. You hoped she didn't just come over to apologize when you could have already been warm and dry again.

She, however, did laugh, making your silence even more awkward. "I'm Jade, by the way." She added, reaching her hand out for you to shake. You did - albeit hesitantly - because at least she was making an effort to be polite after just completely soaking you.

"I'm Karkat." You replied dryly. Still, as completely fed up at you looked, you kind of had to admit one thing. It could have been worse. Way worse.

Your gaze was drawn back to the classroom and, though you didn't hear him move in the least, Dave was standing behind Jade. It was unnerving as Hell. He didn't even say anything at all - he just stood there and looked at you. Or, you assumed he was looking at you. It was hard to tell with the shades he was wearing. You hoped they weren't a constant thing, because that could and would get annoying real quick.

The strangest thing is, Egbert and Jade didn't seem to notice him. If you two were in a movie, he'd probably be a ghost that only you can see, or some other ridiculous entity that fits into an oddly specific scenario. But you knew he wasn't a ghost because you were living a real life. It was real life, and he was a dick, and you were soaking wet. There was nothing more to it than that.

Or, at least, there wasn't anything more to it until he smiled. He fucking _smiled_. And not even an obnoxious, self-entitled smile or even just a smirk. Because that would have been too easy. Instead, he smiled a real smile. Like he was genuinely happy to have run into you. But the worst part was how you reacted to that smile. Your face turned red, your heart skipped a beat, and it suddenly became impossible for you to remember any of your extensive vocabulary. Or even speak at all. Your mouth was far too dry for that, and your train of thought had jumped the rails and slammed uncaringly into your brain. Shit. It- It shouldn't be legal for an asshole to have such a nice smile

"Uh, here… Karkat." Egbert spoke up, grabbing your wrist and beginning to lead you down the hall. You didn't particularly care about what he was saying _then_ , and you sure as Hell don't care _now_. Talk about serious déjà-vu.

"Karkat, are you okay?" John's voice brings you back to reality, with a few noticeable changes. For one, the world is a lot clearer now. You don't have the greatest memory, so it makes sense that your flashbacks would be fuzzy. Your eye level is also higher than in your flashback. It has been two years since then, after all. You've grown, but you've given up hope of ever getting any taller than 5'4" without high-heels. Which is fucking bullshit in your opinion, but whatever. Your family has always been short.

"I'm fine, John." You snap, your words coming out harsher than intended. You're not sure if it's a good or a bad thing that he isn't fazed, but you still hurry to correct yourself. "Just thinking."

John rolls his eyes, stopping outside the boy's bathroom and thrusting a t-shirt into your hands. "You're always thinking. Hurry up and change. I don't want to be late for another class." He sighs, leaning against the wall to wait the two minutes it will take for you to change and make yourself presentable once more.

You mutter a few choice words under your breath but, knowing that John is right (as usual), just leave it at that and hurry to get changed.

The bathroom is, thankfully, empty, and you quickly switch shirts before that can change. You really hate Dave right now. You could report him for bullying if the principal and the staff didn't think that he's God's gift to the world. And also if he was actually bullying you. He's not - technically. Mostly it's just a lot of pestering and "coincidences" such as what happened just a few minutes ago.

The one time you let your guard down, and what does Dave do? He just so happens to walk by your table and the cafeteria, and "accidentally" trip and spill his lunch all over you. You're just lucky that John always has a back up pair of clothes and that he's more or less your size. It's not a bad idea, actually. You still have to survive the rest of this year _and_ senior year with Dave, so you should prepare, right? Right. You make a mental note to start packing spare clothes in your backpack.

You sigh tiredly, seeing your pitiful reflection in the mirror. It's not too hard to see why Dave would single you out to be the victim of his fucked-up sense of humor. Not that you actually understand Dave at all, much less know why he seems to hate you so much. He's never told you, and you've never bothered to ask. You'd rather dig your eye out with a dull spoon than attempt to have a pleasant conversation with Dave motherfucking Strider.

You turn the sink on and simply stand there, watching the water run through your fingers for about twenty seconds before you remember that school water doesn't heat up. Cheap ass bastards… Still, it'll do, and you do your best to comb the mashed potatoes out of your hair. Something that looks vaguely like solid gravy slips down the drain, and you suppress a shiver. There's a reason you never eat school lunches, and this is it. It's sick. You can make better food in your sleep, and you sometimes do. Yeah. You sleepwalk. It's better than the insomnia you had as a kid, you suppose, but you're still always tired.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. You're done making yourself at least a little presentable, so now you get to suffer through the last two classes of the day. Hooray for you.

Ah, if only your life could be that simple.

When you step out of the bathroom, you find not one, but two boys waiting for you. Well, kind of. You know that John is waiting for you, but, well, you're not entirely sure why Dave is here. "...need to end this bullshit." John is saying as you step outside. The door (surprisingly) doesn't make a sound, and neither do you, but despite the fact that Dave is wearing aviators that take up half his face, you can still _feel_ when his gaze slides over to you. God, he is so fucking creepy. If there's one good thing about the constant, bizarre attention he gives you, it's that you've finally learned to control your facial expressions and body language. You're no longer quite the open book you were when you first arrived at this school.

John, sensing that his friend is no longer listening, turns to look over his shoulder at you. He frowns. "Dave, whatever you're thinking-" He begins, facing him once more, but is quickly cut off.

"No, John." He shakes his head, and you can tell that he's not looking at Egbert anymore. "You're right. Don't worry - I know exactly what to do."

Dave has very long legs. Much longer than yours could ever be, and even though you already know this, you're more than a little caught off guard when Dave is suddenly standing in front of you. He towers over your messily 5'4" frame easily, and it pisses you off. It should probably scare you - considering some of the things he's done to you - but it doesn't. You don't get scared. You get mad, and then impulsive, and then do something stupid that you'll probably regret later. You're not quite at the point where you want to kick his balls back into his body, but you're close.

It does nothing to calm you down when Dave puts a hand on your shoulder. How _dare_ he touch you! And in such a friendly, carefree manner, too! If it weren't for the utter lack of bullshit in his expression, you would have given into the impulse to respond violently. You pack a bigger punch than your appearance may lead people to believe. Admittedly, you're punches aren't very good, but you like to think that you can still hold your own in a fight. Just… not a fight against Dave.

"We need to talk privately." Dave says suddenly, pulling you from your mind and back to the mortal plain. You frown. You were trying to remember all the ways to kill a man with your bare hands, and he interrupted you. You open your mouth to refuse his "request" but your protests die in your throat when he squeezes your shoulder so hard that you know it's going to bruise. You wince, but keep your lips sealed. You aren't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he's caused you pain. " _Now_. This isn't up for negotiation."

John, who has been watching silently with concern up to now, steps forwards then and puts a hand on Dave's arm. "Uh, Dave?" He forces a laugh that does nothing to ease the tension between the three of you. "Don't get me wrong - it's great that you want to work this whole thing out, but we have class soon. So…" His blue eyes dart anxiously to the hand on your shoulder which, for what it's worth, isn't holding you anywhere near as tightly as before.

Dave opens his mouth to say something - possibly a complete dismissal of the rules - but before he can, the bell cuts through the silence, jarring all of you back to reality. When Dave speaks again, it's after some hesitance as students begin to flood the hallways. Why they're in such a hurry to get to class, you may never know. "You can stand to be late for one more class." Dave says finally. His head is tilted towards John, but you can tell that he's looking at you. It feels like he always is, and you just don't get it. What exactly did you do to deserve this asshole's attention?

Once again, John starts to protest, but this time, it's you who silences him. "Don't worry about it, Egbert." You shake your head, signaling to him that it's just not worth it. "Might as well get this over with…" You sigh, looking up at Dave unhappily.

If he notices your displeasure, he doesn't comment on it. He simply presses his lips into a thin line - like he's trying to keep from smiling - and nods his head towards the end of the hallway. Students are pooling into their classes, so it's easy to see what he's indicating. But even if a fucking wall had been in your way, you would know that he's gesturing to the school's back exit. "Let's talk outside. And don't worry," his gaze slides over to John, "I promise to have him back in ten minutes or less."

John just sighs, appearing to be completely done with your shit. "Fine. But I'm not covering for you with the teacher." He tries and fails to look mad at you, before simply giving up and heading towards his class.

If he looks back, you'll never know, because Dave almost automatically begins pulling you towards the doors. You are strangely indifferent to all of this. You figure that whatever happens is going to happen regardless of how tense you get, so you just stay loose. You heard somewhere that things hurt more if you're tensed up, which is why drunk drivers have a higher chance of surviving car crashes than the sober people they hit. Or something. You don't really care, which is a surprise to absolutely nobody.

You remain indifferent as you and Dave step outside and into the scorching sun. He's leading you by your hand, and you do your best to remain indifferent about this, too. You try to pretend that his hand isn't warm, and that it doesn't feel nice in yours, and that you're not turning red from all of this indifference. Yeah. You're definitely not blushing. Not even when he pushes you down into a sitting position at one of the many tables scattered about behind the school. You're also not blushing when he sits across from you and, leaning forward, takes your hands in his.

You hate yourself for finding him attractive, and you hate him even more for _being_ attractive. He hates you and you hate him. Where is he getting the idea that making you feel this way is even remotely okay? You think that the universe is out to get you too, because you've shared a majority of your classes with him over the years. Especially gym. God, gym class is absolutely horrible because then he's shirtless and smirking at you in that knowing way and sweating and- okay, you really need to stop with these thoughts. Hormones be damned- you do _not_ find Dave attractive. Not at all. He _is_ awfully close, though…

"I have an offer I want to make." He speaks up suddenly, after a solid minute of silence. Maybe he was sizing you up? You don't know.

Curiosity gets the better of you faster than you'd like to admit and, against all logic, you make the mistake of asking, "What kind of offer?" Wow, you _already_ regret this. Why didn't you just let John take you to class? It would have made this day a lot easier.

Dave smirks in that smug, know-it-all way of his, and any interest you have in this conversation instantly gives way to anger. He rubs you in all the wrong ways. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

You're about to tell him to "fuck off" in the most colorful way possible, but he starts talking before you. You scowl, but begrudgingly pay attention. "So, John has taken the liberty of informing me that my "asshole behavior" is really fucking with you, so I came up with a solution."

You put a sarcastic smile on your face and, in your best teenage girl impression, say, "You're finally going to become a decent member of society and leave me alone?" The amount of false sweetness in your voice is enough to choke a professional wrestler. They'd probably have to punch the wall to feel manly again after all that sugar you dumped on them.

"No." Dave says flatly.

Of course.

"Or, well, maybe." He adds, and you can't help but perk up at this. Maybe is good enough for you. "But only if," Dave rushes to continue before you can get _too_ hopeful, "you can beat me at a game."

"A game?" You repeat, eyebrow raised. You're more than a little suspicious, to say the least. Dave doesn't seem like the type of person to play games. Even when it comes to you. Everything he does seems… personal. And although you'd rather jump off of a cliff than talk to him most of the time, you know that he cares about you in his own fucked up way. You're special. No one else is allowed to pick on you which, again, really creeps you out.

"A game." Dave confirms, nodding. "A game of the heart. It's like this-" He pulls his hands from yours, and you squash the disappointment that curls up in your stomach at the lack of contact. "We start dating. Like a real couple. Holding hands, kissing, cuddling, date nights - the works." He can see that he's losing you, so he hurries to finish. At any other point, you'd be quick to make your complete lack of interest clear, but this offer - genuinely has you stumped. "Just for seven months - until the end of the school year. We try to woo each other. And the first person to fall in love, loses." He rests his chin on his hands, watching you carefully from behind his shades. "If I fall in love-" He laughs for a few seconds before remembering what he's doing, and continues, "I'll stop bugging you. Ever. You'll never hear shit from me again."

Now _that_ you like the sound of. Much better than this "dating" bullshit. And you can't believe you're asking, but… "What if _I_ fall in love?"

"Then I'll tell you why I've been so… invested in you for the past few years." Dave states calmly. His eyes are burning holes in you, and it makes you shift uncomfortably. You hate it when he stares. You get the feeling that he can read you like a magazine, and it unnerves you. Everything about Dave unnerves you. But there's still that tiny part of you that likes the idea of this "game" for more reasons than simply getting Dave off your back. You hate that part of yourself.

Seeing as how you haven't flat-out rejected him yet, Dave makes the decision to keep talking. "Of course, there are rules to this game." _Of course_. "If you want to play, then we start dating immediately. No questions asked. That means that we actually have to _act_ like we're dating. So, if I kissed you or held your hand or something, pulling away would be considered a forfeit, and we'll continue our relationship from where we left off." He pauses, and you remain silent, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt under the table. You can't believe that you're actually _seriously_ considering this. "The arrangement stays between us." Dave moves on. "As far as anyone else knows, we're completely ga-ga for each other." He leans forward - so close that you can actually see the silhouette of his eyes behind his shades - and smirks. "So. Wanna play?"

You bite your lip nervously, looking up at his patient expression and then back down at your fists clenched in your lap. You grip the material of your jeans, pulling and pinching it while you think.

On the one hand, you hate Dave. You really do. It would cause you no pain if he suddenly was removed from your life. In fact, you dare say that you might actually _enjoy_ school if that happened. Maybe you'd even leave your house more often since your chances of seeing him on the streets would be reduced to 0%.

But on the other hand…

He is cute. Really unfairly cute. And you don't think you would entirely _mind_ kissing a face like that. So, yeah, maybe you're physically attracted to Dave, but you were also once attracted to John. You had to learn the hard way that physical attraction means absolutely jackshit when it comes to actual _love_. So, you can do this. You can get through seven months of dating one of the hotter boys in your school. Because, let's be honest - when are you ever going to get another chance at this? At the very least, it'll be good kissing practice for when you start a _real_ relationship. Love isn't a game to you, and you sure as fuck aren't losing this one.

You can't believe you're doing this. You look up at him, doing your best to make eye-contact. Fuck, was he always so close? You shove that thought out of your way, and narrow your eyes challengingly. "Game on."

And, of course, he smirks. He knew even when he was dragging you out here that you'd say yes. You're so predictable, aren't you? Dave, however, isn't predictable, and he proves it with what he does next.

The space still left between the two of you (what?, like six inches?) is quickly diminished to nothing, and his lips are soft and surprisingly warm against yours. You jerk in surprise, and move to pull away, but the hand he places on your cheek keeps you still. You remember what he said. Any pulling back means that you forfeit. You clench your jaw in frustration, and kiss him back. If you're going down, you sure as fuck aren't going down easy. Dave seems pleased that you're going to play the game, and makes a small humming sound in the back of his throat.

Your heart skips a beat.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you get the feeling that this is going to be a long seven months.

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 **A/N: So, this is an idea I've been toying around with for a while, and I honestly don't know how long this will be. I'm just tossing this out there for the time being. If anyone is interested in more chapters, I'll try to get those out as soon as possible.**


	2. Rumors Fly

**A/N: Okay, so, quick reminder. Because this story is being written mostly on impulse and my passion for DaveKat, there is no set ending in mind. It could be good or bad or end in a wedding or death. Or, better yet, a wedding where one of them marries someone else. Wouldn't that be fun? But, all teasing aside, it's still up in the air. If any of you guys have any ideas or suggestions, I'd love to hear them.**

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You honestly aren't that surprised when rumors start filtering around school about your relationship with Dave. Like you've mentioned before, you go to a small school. Everybody knows everybody, even nobodys like you. Dave, as much as you hate to admit it, is fairly popular. He's cute, mildly athletic, and can be funny when he's not being an ass. He's gone out with some other girls around school - nothing that lasted long - so you think that most of the initial shock comes from the fact that you're a guy.

That doesn't mean your school's homophobic, because it's not. Dave's much nicer and way more agreeable half-sister, Rose, has been in a relationship with one of your good female friends for almost three years now. Your school fucking adores them. They're like the Goddesses of love and perfect relationships or some shit. The problem, you think, is that everyone just assumed that Dave was straight. Or, at least, that he had a pretty well-defined type. And you're not his type at all.

Again, it's a small school. You know every girl he's dated, which is really only three. And there's a pattern. For one, they're all humans. To be fair, trolls aren't exactly a surplus in this town, but Dave has stuck with his own species. Tall girls, plenty of curves, and they all have bubbly personalities, huge smiles, long hair, and eyes so innocent that they put puppies to shame.

You are none of that. People have come up to ask you why Dave asked you out, but all you can do is shrug. Not just because of the rules of the "game" but because you honestly don't know. You'd sacrifice your brother to Satan for answers to questions as complicated as that.

Okay, well, maybe you wouldn't go that far. Kankri may be a pain in the ass and have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, but he's there when it counts, and he's still your brother. You have a soft spot for him, even if you'll never tell him that. Shit- just thinking it is a serious blow to your already fragile sense of masculinity.

You think that another portion of the shock is because of your… less than agreeable relationship with Dave up to this point. The sudden change in attitude - especially on your part - probably confuses more than a few people.

A knock at your front door pulls your attention away from the generic cartoon playing on your T.V. screen, and you take your sweet time to answer it. It doesn't really matter how long you take. They could knock twenty times, and only you would ever answer it. Your mom is always either up in her room or out with friends.

Your classes on troll history have taught you that trolls used to have what's called a "lusus" as a guardian, and you honestly wouldn't object to reinstating that. Fuck this "relate more to humans" bullshit. Having a lusus would be so much less emotionally exhausting than a parent. You don't, however, miss reproducing via The Mother Grub. That was just fucked up. The human way is so much more - what's the word? - pleasing. The only reason for The Mother Grub's existence was to help the higher-ups like the Condesce keep track of and control the population growth. It also helped them sort out and kill mutants like yourself. You're glad you weren't alive at that point in history. You're also exceedingly grateful that the rebellion against the Condesce actually worked. The odds weren't in the rebels favor, but they did it. Thank God.

What were you doing again? Ah, yes. The door.

You already know who's going to be on the other side and, sure enough, when you open it, Dave is standing on your front porch. His hand poised in the air to knock a second time, and for a moment, he looks genuinely stunned to see you standing there, but then the moment passes and his face is as unreadable as your handwriting in the third grade. He recovers from the interrupted knock by bypassing the spot where the door used to be and ruffles your hair. When he does, he takes care to avoid your embarrassingly nubby horns, and you're grateful. They're sensitive little fuckers.

"You ready to head out, K-Kat?" Dave asks in his smooth voice, looking down at you with a small half-smile.

Your definitely-not-blush blush fades as soon as you hear that horrible parody of your name. You groan audibly, turning back into your house so you can grab your backpack and shoes and such. " _Please_ tell me the nicknames will get better. Or even stop completely?" You know that your last request is asking too much, and Dave confirms this by snorting loudly, rolling his eyes from behind his shades. He has this way of doing it that, even if you can't see his eyes, makes it very clear that you just lost any respect he might have had for you.

He crosses his arms, watching you pull on your tennis shoes by the still-open door. "And what? Render all of the effort I put into them meaningless? That's a no-can-do, Kitkat."

You roll your eyes, straightening back up and slinging your backpack over your shoulder. "Oh, spare me your pathetic sob story, Strider. How much effort could it possibly take to alter my already horrible name in varying degrees of stupidity?" You brush past him and out the door, waiting on the porch impatiently for Dave to follow. "I mean, really. I've heard better nicknames from my dog."

Dave, following you, raises an eyebrow. "Dog? But you don't have a-"

You interrupt him, a self-satisfied look on your face as you say, "Exactly." Like Hell you'd ever have a dog. Maybe a cat or a fish. Or even a crab. Those things are badass _and_ adorable. They suit you. Not that you're adorable or anything.

"Aw, c'mon. Give me some credit." Dave says in his best fake-hurt voice, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You tense at the contact, and then force yourself to relax. You just focus on locking the door behind you instead of on how close he is. It would be a lot easier to simply push him away, but you aren't going to lose this just because you're mildly confused. Er- uncomfortable. You're definitely _not_ confused, because you don't like when he touches you, and that's the end of that.

You wouldn't hesitate to push him away, however, if he tried anything more than kissing. Fuck games - if he tried to get in your pants, you'd bitch slap him and run. But you don't think that will be a problem. It's been two weeks since you and Dave started playing, and other than that first time, he hasn't tried to kiss you even once. Mostly, it's just a lot of hand holding and spending time together.

He picks you up everyday for school and walks you home, and sometimes, he comes inside and the two of you will cuddle in silence and watch T.V. for an hour before he has to go. This behavior _does_ confuse you. Why is he so content to do so little? Are you a bad kisser? Is he regretting this game and just doesn't want to admit defeat? You don't know, and it doesn't seem like you'll be figuring it out any time soon. A part of you hopes that he isn't having second thoughts. At least - not after you finally learned to tolerate his presence. You definitely aren't enjoying spending time with him. Not at all.

When you're finished locking the door, you have to pull away in order to walk, and Dave (mercifully) let's you go. "I mean," he continues, just two steps behind you, "I have a list, Karkat. A list that took _an hour_ to write."

You grunt in acknowledgement, mildly impressed. Not that he needs to know that. But it's both sad and remarkable that he spent an hour of his day coming up with nicknames for you. It makes you feel… something. This odd, but not entirely unpleasant, tingling sensation in your chest. You don't like the implications of that feeling, so you do your best to ignore it. "I find that incredibly hard to believe and also a waste of fucking time." You tell him. It's better to keep the conversation going than to walk in silence. Mostly because, if you walked in silence, you be left to your own thoughts. And your thoughts are a Hell of a lot less pleasant than Dave, which is saying something.

Dave makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a thoughtful hum, and you internally groan. Whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to be exceedingly stupid. "K-Kat. Kitkat. Karkles. Kar. Kitten. Kark. Nubs. Shouty. Nubs McShout. Shouty McNubs." He rambles off a list of nicknames for you, and you suffer in silence. Well, at least until he says, "Vantass." Then you take it upon yourself to stop this nonsense.

You punch him in the arm firmly, hoping it will make him stop. It does, but it doesn't seem to hurt him, which you have mixed feelings about. He stops talking, his nicknames dissolving into laughter, which you _also_ have mixed feelings about. You get the feeling that he's laughing at you, but you've never heard him laugh so freely before, and it makes you pause. Dammit, why does everything about him have to be so appealing? Especially the things you should hate. Like his smile, and his laugh, and his sense of humor.

If the last few weeks have taught you anything, it's that you and Dave actually have a pretty similar sense of humor. You don't care about avoiding sensitive topics, and neither does he. You'll both joke about everything. Once, he told you a dead baby joke, and you're pretty sure that you're going to Hell for laughing. Because you actually really like babies and kids, but - fuck - that joke was clever. Dave is surprisingly clever. You had pegged him as a stereotypical jock like in the romcoms you totally don't watch, but he's not. He's witty and charming and can actually be pretty nice.

Not that any of this means that you don't hate him, because you do. You're allowed to recognize that he has some nice qualities. Doesn't everybody? But you don't love him. And you never will. You'll make sure of it.

The rest of the walk to school passes in a comfortable silence. And by "the rest of the walk" you mean "exactly two blocks". You live pretty close to the school. You have no clue where Dave lives. He's pretty secretive about his personal life, and you don't pry. Prying would mean that you care, and he knows that, so you're not going to ask because you don't care. It's that simple.

Once you two get within a block of the school though, Dave takes your hand. This is something that you actually don't mind. He does it a lot. Maybe Dave has a fetish or something for hand holding? Either way, it feels nice. His hand is always warm.

You don't even mind the attention of your peers so much anymore. It's mostly a lot of hushed whispers and badly concealed glances when the two of you walk by. Small school filled with polite people. They don't want you to know that they're staring, even though it's obvious. They're also overlooking the fact that you don't care. Dave doesn't either. No attention or fucktons of it doesn't affect you at all. Every day is more or less the same anyway.

Some of the rumors are actually kind of entertaining. One of them is that you and Dave are actually just friends. It's not like you two do more than hold hands, anyway. Another is that you were bribed into faking a relationship with him, which… isn't too far from the truth, actually. The other (more ridiculous) ideas span anywhere from hypnotism to alien abduction to a look-alike imposter, and you honestly can't pick a favorite.

As per usual, Dave waits with you by your locker to get your stuff together, then you head to the first period class that you and him share, and socialize with your friends a bit. Your friends are also in on the rumors, although most of them aren't as subtle as everyone else. John even came up to you not a week ago and peppered you with questions that, according to him, "only the real Karkat can answer." It's ridiculous to you - can't you date who you want? - but you humored him and answered. You know that every answer was correct, not that it made him any less suspicious.

One of your troll friends, Sollux, actually has a bet going with Jade about the reasoning behind this relationship. In reality he doesn't give a flying fuck why you are or are not dating Dave, but the chance to both be right and make money isn't an opportunity he can pass up. You don't know all the details, but you do know that the betting pool is growing by the day as more people come up with ideas and join in. You don't know what the big deal is. So Dave is changing up his relationships and you suddenly have a thing for pretentious pricks. Big fucking deal. Who cares? Apparently, the answer is everyone. Or, at least, most people. Kanaya doesn't seem to care. In fact, she's acting as if your new relationship is the most normal thing in existence, and that kind of concerns you.

But in the long run, you suppose that you can let the school get carried away with this if they want. In a town like this, they probably need all the entertainment they can get. So for the time being, you see no reason to confirm or deny any rumors. You're considerate like that.

You have five periods before lunch, and they're all about 45 minutes long. You don't really pay attention to every minute, per say, you just watch for when the bell will ring. All in all, pretty dull days as a whole. You and Dave share first period (as you already mentioned), as well as third, fourth, and eighth. Dave is something of a shadow. He's with you in first period, and in eighth, and he has somehow managed to keep tabs on you for every second in between. It's creepy, annoying, and somewhat insulting, but you can't help but feel… flattered?

He's borderline obsessive with keeping you in his sight (for what reason, you aren't sure) and although you know you can take care of yourself, he _doesn't_ seem to know that. The only time you're ever truly alone is when you're at home or in the bathroom or both. It's nice that Dave cares this much about you but, like everything else, it confuses you. He never tries to take or look at your phone, and he doesn't care who you talk to, so he clearly trusts you. Maybe it's just everyone else he doesn't trust. That… would make sense. But damn, he really is pulling out all the stops to make this relationship seem real. Sometimes even _you_ forget that you're faking it.

Everything about your day stays more or less the same up until lunch. Normally, you and Dave will sit at a table with your assorted friends. It's more crowded than it used to be, as now you're mixing both of your friend groups. John, Jade, Rose, and Kanaya will switch between tables (because of course the power couple has to sit together). Sollux and your other troll friends, Gamzee and Terezi, will often sit with you. Not that it's fun because they're all assholes and they annoy you in their own special ways.

You have a lot of troll friends online. But, fortunately, most of them don't live close to you. Like, for example, your friend, Eridan. If he lived here, you probably wouldn't like him as much because, not only is he an asshole of Dave's magnitude, but he and Sollux hate each other with a burning, platonic passion. Keeping those two in check is not something you would like to concern yourself with. Putting up with John and Terezi's almost-but-not-quite black flirting is bad enough. The sexual tension is killing you.

Your table - consisting of you, John, Sollux, Terezi, Jade, Rose, Kanaya, Gamzee, and Dave - is _more_ than enough. You mean it. They all piss you off, and you wouldn't mind if half of them sat somewhere else. But you suppose that friendship is equivalent to signing a demonic contract in your own blood. Meaning: it's permanent. Lucky you.

Just as you're about to sit down and suffer through thirty minutes of obnoxious talking and yelling though, Dave stops you. He puts a hand on your shoulder, keeping you standing. "Here, follow me." He says, earning a curious look from both you and a majority of the table. "I know somewhere where we can eat privately and... talk."

Well, _that_ doesn't sound good. Your friends, however, seem to disagree. Rose in particular looks especially smug as she shoos you both away from the table. "Don't let us stop you two from being… alone." She says, suppressing a laugh. To make matters worse, she even throws in a wink when she thinks you're not looking, Terezi bursts out laughing in that obnoxious way of hers, and Sollux whistles.

You officially hate your friends. They're all dead to you. All of them.

By now, you're a nice, obvious shade of red, and you're incredibly relieved when Dave drags you out into the hallway. It's hard to tell with his shades on, but you think he's blushing, too. That reassures you. It doesn't seem like he's planning any of the things that your friends implied, but they're going to think that regardless of what you say, so it's probably a good thing that Dave simply settled for leaving.

"Where are we going?" You ask once you realize that you've just been letting Dave lead you for the past fifteen seconds. You have your sack lunch clutched tightly in your free hand, though he has no food with him at all. You get the feeling that you won't really be eating at this mystery location of his.

Dave stays quiet for a moment, then stops suddenly. You almost run into him, but manage to catch yourself against the wall just in time. "Here." He announces, opening a door that says "NO STUDENTS ALLOWED".

You shake your head, pulling your hand from his and taking a step back. "Dave, you've done a lot of stupid shit that the teachers let slide, but if we get caught in there, they'll be pissed. Not even your levels of charisma can get you out of trespassing." You tell him, the words coming fast and a little jumbled together, signaling that you're more nervous about this than you're letting on.

He rolls his eyes, stepping inside the little room and standing on the first step of a flight of stairs. You have no clue why your school has stairs. It's a one story building, and these stairs are clearly going up. "You worry too much, Kit. I've been up here _tons_ of times and they never catch me." He extends his hand towards you, and you eye it as if he's waving a gnarled monster dick in your direction. "C'mon. Don't you trust me?"

You blame your love of Disney movies for what happens next. Damn him for making this set up so similar to the balcony scene from "Aladdin"! You sigh in defeat, and take his hand. "I swear to God, if this blows up in my face, I'm going to take a broom and shove it up your ass." You tell him as he leads you up the stairs.

Dave hums thoughtfully, as if considering it. "Kinky." He replies. Your blush returns full-force at his implications, and you begin to tell him off, only to stop yourself before you can get a word out. The two of you have reached the top of the stairs, and he's pushing open a metal hatch. Sunlight pours into the room, and you blink rapidly while your eyes adjust to the sudden and very bright light. Dave seems unaffected with his shades on (the lucky fucker), and helps you up the final few steps and onto the school's roof.

The view is nothing special. It's basically everything you always see, just from a little higher up. Still, there's something charming about the whole set up. You wonder how Dave knew about your weakness for romantic clichés. You aren't _that_ obvious, are you?

"What are we doing up here...?" You turn away from the view to look at Dave, but he's already moved. Instead of standing by the entrance (which has been shut behind you), he's sitting on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the end. And even though your common sense tells you otherwise, you walk up behind him and follow suit.

He stays quiet, so you do, too. You study the horizon, and do your best to ignore the ground. It's not _that_ far down. Falling wouldn't kill you unless you did something stupid like a swan dive off the roof. You're not even afraid of heights, but you don't want to push it. Asking to go back inside would be stupid. And against your own personal wishes, you actually kind of like it up here. The breeze tousles your hair and feels refreshing against your skin. It's November, so it's not like it's hot outside, but you've never been able to resist a good bit of wind. Not even on the coldest day of the year will a breeze bother you.

"I come up here to think sometimes." Dave speaks up suddenly. You look over at him, keeping quiet. You think that interrupting would ruin the moment he's trying to create with you. Dave, who had previously been sitting with one leg pulled up to his chest, his chin balanced on his knee, and his arms wrapped around his shin, straightens out. He puts both legs over the edge, swinging them back and forth in the open air, leans back, and props himself up on his palms. His fingertips are just barely touching yours, but you feel no need to move away.

Dave takes a while to continue after that. You understand that he needs time to organize his thoughts, but you're getting more than a little impatient when he finally talks again. "I… know that you don't like me, Karkat." He sighs. You don't object. He's right, after all, so why correct him? If anything, you're disappointed that he brought you up here just to state the obvious. "But not many people really do like me." Now _this_ gets your attention. You were under the impression that everyone loves Dave. He has this… spirit about him that just draws people in. Your face must give something away, because what he says next sounds a little rushed. "And when I say "me" I mean the real me. Not the confident, egotistical asshole I present myself as."

You snort with laughter, trying to muffle it quickly before Dave gets the wrong idea. You're a little too late for that though, as evidenced by the look on your face. Dave looks… kind of hurt? Your laughter stops almost immediately as you try to smooth things over. "S-Sorry! I just-" You sigh and shake your head, looking at the ground far below your feet. "I can't believe you're coming to _me_ , of all people, about your shortcomings as a person. I'm not the best role model, you know." You point out.

It's true. The day you become a good example for a balanced personality is the day meteors ran from the sky and end humanity. It's never going to happen. Well, at least not any time _soon_.

"I know." Dave says honestly. The smile on your face is gone, and there's a seriousness in his voice that you didn't notice before. You turn your head just barely, only to find him closer than before. His hand is resting on top of yours and, carefully, you turn your hand so that it's palm-up and slowly entwine your fingers with his. "Neither of us are right in the head, hm?" He chuckles humorlessly, his head tilted at an angle that makes you think he's also watching your hands. "But I guess I came to you because I feel like you understand me. Or, at least, that you could. We're pretty similar, you know."

You'd be lying if you tried to tell yourself that everything he's saying hasn't crossed your mind before. You'd also be lying if you said that your heart is beating at a perfectly normal pace right now, but you suppose that there's no harm in a white lie every now and then.

"I…" You try to say, looking up to face him properly. You don't know exactly what you're going to say, but it turns out that it doesn't matter. Dave is close. Too close, but somehow not close enough. Your gaze drops to his lips before you pull yourself together and re-focus on his shades. You want to say something - anything - but nothing comes out. Your mouth is too dry, your hands are too clammy, and your brain is too scrambled. Why does he have this effect on you? It's not fair. Everything about this set up isn't fair. It feels as though you were doomed to lose this game as soon as you decided to play.

Maybe that's why you don't feel the need to stop him when he leans in. You were given plenty of time to. Dave moves slowly - deliberately. He puts his free hand on your shoulder, still holding your hand with the other, and watches you for what feels like a long time. He seems to actually want _you_ to want this. You think that pulling away would be perfectly fine. Maybe he even wants you to. The only problem is, _you want this._

But you don't think that it's love. Not even when you finally get fed up with waiting for his slow ass and close the distance between you. Love takes patience and time. It isn't something that can happen within the span of two weeks. Passion, though? That _is_ something you can feel at first sight. And there's nothing wrong with that.

You reach up, gripping the material of his shirt, and pull him closer. Dave seems surprised by your forwardness, but not at all upset. He smiles in to the kiss, and you, in turn, scowl. His hand drops down to your waist, but it's mostly your fault when you end up on your back with him on top of you. You probably shouldn't be making out with Dave so close to the edge of a roof. Most of your brain doesn't really care about the details, though. A bigger part of you wants to pull Dave closer and just enjoy this while it lasts.

You are inclined to agree.

You don't even mind so much when your shirt begins to ride up, and he continues pushing it instead of fixing it. The sun-baked roof burns your bare skin and you hiss lowly but, if anything, it just makes you want this more. You feel keenly aware of every nerve in your body. Your lips are against his, fighting a battle for dominance that you are rapidly losing. His hands are tracing your grub scars so lightly that you honestly aren't sure if he's really touching you. Your arms are around his neck, and your fingers are running through his too-blonde hair. You feel higher than Gamzee's pies could ever get you, and you want to go higher. To be closer and go further and-

"Well well well." A voice that sounds incredibly smug and way too proud of herself interrupts your thought process. And the moment is shattered - just like that. The way your skin is burning no longer excites you, it just hurts. Dave's hands on your sides are cold and clammy and no longer anywhere near as nice as they felt before. You quickly untangle your fingers from his hair and push him off of you, pulling your shirt back down and holding your sides protectively as you scoot away from him.

You glare at Rose, but you probably don't look very threatening with your face as red as your blood and your clothes rumpled the way they are. Rose, apparently, didn't come alone, and if there's one good thing about her ruining your make-out session, it's the look on John's face. Whereas Rose looks mildly… turned on? That's weird. Anyway- John looks like a cross between disgust, confusion, and just plain bewilderment. You think he might be having an existential crisis.

You pick yourself up and dust of your clothes, grumbling unhappily as you push your way down the stairs. "What? Never seen two guys make out before?" You ask John as you pass him. He doesn't answer, just stares, and you don't blame him. You and Dave are his best friends, and he was with the group of people who thought your relationship was fake. Or, at least, hoped that was the case. This might take a while for him to adjust to.

Dave follows you not long after, and you hear him muttering things to Rose about being "the worst sister ever" and that he "never should have shown her this place" as well as some other things that are less pleasant. All of what he says to her basically translates to "fuck you" though. Her excuse is that class will be starting soon and she didn't want you two to be late. Which makes sense for someone as practical as her.

Oh, well. At least now there won't be any confusion about the legitimacy of this boyfriend of yours. You're not sure whether or not you like thinking about Dave as your boyfriend. You could always go with the more old-fashioned term, matesprits, but you're not too sold on that, either. Quadrants are somewhat taboo now. They still exist, of course, as do kismesissitudes and moirailegences, but they're a lot less common now. But all quadrants aside, you guess that there's no harm in calling Dave your boyfriend since your thoughts are your own and he _is_ technically your boyfriend. Or, he will be for about six and a half more months. Yeah, sure. _That's_ why you like to call him that.

You're getting really bad at lying to yourself.

* * *

 **A/N: Hints for the next chapter: dancing, confusing feelings, a heart-to-heart, and some blatant shipping by yours truly. What can I say? Forced or not, this new couple I'm going to introduce (subtly) makes me very happy. To make up for it, the next chapter is also really long. And while writing it, I accidentally tripped and included drug usage and sadstuck. Oops? Sorry. So- look out for that.**


	3. Half Empty, Not Half Full

**A/N: So, I had nothing else to put here, so I figured, "why not talk about the shitty way I write Karkat?" And that sounded good, so here I go.**

 **You may have noticed by now, but I do not write Karkat very well. At least, compared to canon, I don't. However, I do have my reasonings for this. Firstly, Karkat is a very difficult character to write. Anyone who isn't Hussie and can do it well deserves the highest respect. Secondly, this isn't canon Karkat. Yes, yes, I know, it's a weak excuse, but it's still true. On this Earth, the Condesce lost the revolution, which was still lead by the Summoner and Mindfang. So because she lost and the Signless' followers were put in charge of the new order, blood color… really isn't a big deal anymore. Sure, there are always going to be highblood supremacists, but that's a given. Think of it as… race, where the lower bloods are more like African Americans or Asians or Mexicans and are basically considered to be lesser people than rich whites or something. Not everyone is like that, so don't go to the comments to yell at me for pointing out the flaws in our society.**

 **Anyway, Karkat didn't have to live a secluded life or even hide at all. He's more comfortable with himself than in canon. However, he's still Karkat, and he's still shouty and has an inferiority complex the size of Texas. More on that in this chapter.**

* * *

"You want to take me to the winter formal?" You repeat for the fifth time, one eyebrow raised suspiciously at your boyfriend.

Currently, you and Dave are sitting in your living room, him splayed out dramatically on the couch, and you curled up in the nearby arm chair. You _were_ reading a romance novel that you had been meaning to get to for a while now, and Dave had been watching America's Got Talent peacefully up until five minutes ago. Then he remembered the dance for some reason. The paperback sits abandoned on the arm of the chair, and his show is now paused while the two of you debate the dance. Or, well, you listen and interrupt while he tries to ask you to go with him. But it's basically the same thing.

Dave groans loudly, flipping onto his stomach and (you assume) glaring at you from behind his shades. "Yes, Karkat. For the sixth time. The fucking winter formal that our school holds every goddamn year. Do. You. Want. To. Go. With. Me?" He asks you, punctuating each word carefully as if you're a four year old with bad hearing.

You purse your lips thoughtfully, staring at him while you think. An offer such as this deserves proper consideration, after all. Well, that, and you like pissing Dave off. His patience is just as non-existent as yours.

It's not that you're opposed to going to the dance. Quite the opposite, actually. You were half-hoping that Dave would ask you (and half hoping that anybody else would). It's just - the fact that he actually _did_ is what has you stumped. You think that he must have some ulterior motive to taking you to this dance.

He didn't take his girlfriend last year, or the year before that, or even go at all, now that you're thinking about it. Why is he making so many exceptions for you? What are you to him, anyway? A charity project? Some kind of toy? He treats you like a friend whom he just so happens to kiss and cuddle with, but you're not sure where you stand with him. He's never told you. Not that you ever bothered to ask, either.

Dave is the manipulative type by nature. He doesn't even have to _try_ to get what he wants. Knowing what he's after would make this whole game a lot easier. He's twenty steps ahead of you, and you hate that. You hate that he doesn't even seem to realize the huge advantage he has. Innocence like that - especially if it's faked - is one of your biggest pet peeves. But still. What do you have to lose?

"Fine." You sigh finally, picking up your book and thumbing through it to find where you left off. "I'll go with you to the dance if it really means that much to your ungrateful ass."

At this, Dave perks up, struggling between a smile and a frown as he looks at you. "You're serious?" He questions, disbelief underlying his words.

You frown, lowering your book just enough to see him. "What? Of course. You've seen my disgraceful taste in movies. Did you honestly think that I would turn down something as stupidly romantic as this?" And then, to cover your tracks as well as your blush, you mutter. "Even if you're the best I can do for a date."

Dave doesn't seem to care about your reasonings for saying yes. All he cares about is that you said yes at all. He never ceases to baffle you. "You're the best, Karkat." He says happily, settling back in to resume his show.

You think that it's cute - in an annoying way, of course - that he's so easily pleased by such an obvious answer. If Nicolas Cage himself asked you to a dance, you would say yes. You'd ditch him once you got there of course, because years of being friends with John has made him your least favorite actor, but you'd still go. Why? Because dances are the embodiment of romance. Or they at least have the potential for it. You're not talking Romeo and Juliet shit with a dress thick enough to suffocate a man. Any dance will do. You love them all.

"I know." You reply smugly, hiding your smile with your book. If Dave notices, he doesn't point it out, and the two of you return to the comfortable atmosphere prior to his question.

The only thing you forgot to do when Dave asked you to the dance was curse him out for waiting so long. You don't remember the date of this dance until he's gone, and by then it's too late to tell him how angry you are. This whole dance business has quickly turned into a steaming pile of horse shit. Horse shit which you will gladly ram down Dave's throat, along with a strongly-worded letter detailing and highlighting and reviewing exactly all the ways you are pissed. And oh boy, is there a lot. It might take you three letters to get all of those very important technicalities on paper.

But enough with long and confusing metaphors. It's Wednesday, and the dance is on the Friday just before your two-week Christmas break. Which leaves you with just two days to find a suit to fit your tiny frame that is both comfortable and fits the basic dress code. It's a winter dance, which means that you need white and/or light blue somewhere on your outfit, so…

You're royally fucked, aren't you? Not even commonly fucked. You are so fucked that they had to find someone who's royalty to fuck you as hard as you've been fucked over.

You bet Dave did this on purpose - just to watch you squirm. That motherfucker. But you'll show him. You'll get an outfit together that will be so good that his jaw drops to the floor and he'll need a forklift to get it closed again.

But, as much as you hate to admit it, you'll need help to pull this off.

You dig your phone out of your pocket and hit the first number on speed dial. Her number has been there for almost as long as you've known her, with John, Sollux, Kankri, and Dave quickly following. And, yes. You did put your brother who isn't even in the same state as you above your boyfriend. That's what Dave gets for not asking you sooner.

"Yes?" A silky voice as gentle as it is commanding fills the line.

"Oh thank God you answered, Kanaya." You sigh in relief, relaxing immediately. Even through the phone, she has the ability to calm you like no one else. "I have an emergency."

She chuckles, and you can practically _see_ the smile on her face right now, even through the phone. "Considering the event taking place this Friday and your current relationship status, I am not surprised. You need a tux, do you not?"

You swear to all that is holy, Kanaya is a mind reader. "Yes!" Anything you can do that's last-minute?" You ask in a rush. It's not fair to ask this of her, and you know it. She's probably custom-making a dress for both herself and Rose as a surprise, as well as tailoring or fixing up older dresses for a lot of other students. She probably has her hands full as the high school's official fashion genius, but you are desperate.

Kanaya hums in thought, pretending to be thinking about it before she speaks. "You understand, of course, that I cannot make you something from scratch in two days?" You nod, and are about to give your verbal agreement, but she's already moved on. "If you can find a suit as well as a dress shirt and a pair of slacks and give it to me tomorrow at school, I can tailor it to fit your… specific needs in time for the dance."

You decide to ignore the subtle short joke and just be glad that she said yes. "Thank you, Kanaya!" You say gratefully. "I'll get right on it!" You hang up without waiting for her to reply, which is rude, but you're always rude. It's not like you being an ass is breaking news or anything. In your defence, you do try to be nicer with Kanaya. Such is the burden of pale feelings.

You don't have a lot of time to get this done. One thing presents a very easy solution, but do you really want to? You look over to the stairs, eyeing them carefully as you approach. You run one hand along the railing and, sure enough, a light coating of dust floats into the open air. You frown. When was the last time your mom came downstairs? Your room is on the first floor, so you don't ever really need to go upstairs. The only thing up there is a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small room that could be used for storage or a treadmill or anything in between.

You take a step on the stairs, and the wood groans in protest under the unfamiliar weight. You feel like you're intruding on something, even though you're still twelve steps away from the top. The second floor is almost like your mom's private sanctuary. It's like an alternate word up here. None of the lights are on, and even though there's plenty of light from downstairs, it all just seems to melt away into the somber, abandoned feeling of the upstairs.

You find that you're holding your breath as you reach the top of the stairs. Ordinarily, you would think that you're over reacting, but now? The fact that you're still here just proves that you're under reacting.

Dave better appreciate all this shit that you're going through to get a suit for him. The fact that he probably won't care just spurs you on - your resolve born purely of stubbornness.

You don't know why this is so hard for you to do. All your doing is asking your mom where she boxed up dad's stuff so that you can take his old suit and have it adjusted to fit you. You don't think he would mind. Your dad was really cool about a lot of things. Or, well, everything except politics. He probably would have run for president if not for how stressful the job is as well as the fact that, and you quote, "Our country is too stupid to know what's good for it." You agreed with him then, and you still do now. You don't know why more people aren't Libertarian. It just makes sense to you.

But enough about politics.

It was a good distraction for a minute or two, but now your mom's door is in front of you and your hand is almost on the door knob. Your heart is pounding far too fast, but not in the way it does around Dave. This kind of pounding is impossible to misinterpret.

You're scared - of what you may or may not find on the other side of the door.

Or maybe you're just making too big a deal out of this. It's just your mom. Sure, you don't see or hear from your mom much anymore (even though you've lived here for two years already) but she's still your mom. She's still the women your father fell in love with. Right?

Well, only one way to find out. One way that's not exceedingly stupid, at least.

"Mom?" You call hesitantly as you push open the door. Your voice is tight and higher than it should be, but you ignore that. You don't think your mom will mind. "Mom, I-" You begin, stepping into the room. But by then, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the upstairs and you find yourself struck speechless by the sight before you.

Your mother, who had been one of the strongest people you knew, who liked cats and goofing off and smiling just for the sake of smiling, sits on the bed with a scowl on her face as she turns to glare at you.

"Get out." She says lowly through clenched teeth, her voice rough and not at all her own.

You don't move. You don't think you can. Your eyes are glued to her hand, which holds a syringe - carefully and with practiced confidence - against one of the thicker veins running through her forearm. You know what she's doing, but your mind is having trouble processing the reality of it. You know she and dad loved each other deeply, and you know that she was never quite the same after his death, but this? You always thought she was better than resorting to whatever illegal drug she's pumping into her system.

"Mom, what are you-?" You try. Her scowl deepens.

"Karkat, get out." She repeats. Her voice is calm and controlled, but you can see her shaking. How long has she gone without a dose? Has she been trying to fight it, or is the shaking just a side effect? You think that there's… regret in her eyes?

"But-"

"Leave!" Your mom snaps, teeth bared. Any regret is now long gone. Maybe it was never there at all. The only thing you see in those eyes is anger and desperation.

You slam the door behind you, one hand clasped over your mouth to muffle any stray noises. Your hand suddenly feels wet, and it takes you longer than it should to make the connection. You're crying. Red tears - just like your blood dictates they should be. Your knees feel weak, and you don't bother trying to fight it when you sink to the floor. You pull your knees up to your chest and bury your head in your hands, trying and failing to stay quiet.

On the other side of the door, your mom is silent as she injects herself with her latest fix and loses herself in her escape. You wonder if she hears you - be it the hiccupping sobs or the way the door rattles in its frame as you shake against it. You wonder if she even cares. She probably doesn't.

You don't know how much time passes with you like that - curled up and huddled against the door as you cry yourself dry - until you finally climb to your feet. You're shaking - badly - but you don't care. You're still crying, but they're no longer tears of disbelief and betrayal.

They're tears of anger.

You, Karkat My-Middle-Name-Is-Not-Important Vantas, are more pissed than you have ever been in your entire life. Nothing Dave has ever done nor ever will do has ever made your blood boil this way. "Pissed" isn't even the right word any more. You are furious, enraged, vivid, and even those words don't do you justice. Your hands are curled into fists, and you can feel your nails tearing into your skin. You can tell that if you don't let up, you're going to start bleeding soon. You don't care. She doesn't care, so why should you?

In fact - fuck how your mom feels all together! It no longer matters to you. She's not your mom anymore. She's just selfish. You miss dad too, dammit! It's not like she was the only person who loved him. You… you love him, too. But would you ever stoop that low for a few hours away from your problems? Of fucking course not. You do what you always do.

You bottle up your feelings deep down, lock them up, and fill the place they used to be with the only emotion that makes sense anymore. Rage. Rage makes complete sense. It's much easier to manage with than pain or hurt or humiliation. So you focus on that instead. You concentrate and amplify it so that you don't have any room for emotions that will drag you down. Emotions are why your mom is where she is now. You're not going to end up like that. Ever. You'll build your walls as thick and as tall as they need to be. Feelings like pity and sympathy and love - especially love - have no place in your heart anymore.

You've gotten to the point where you'd rather feel nothing at all than risk being hurt. You get the feeling that this should alarm you, but it doesn't. You've given up on caring about your mental and emotional health. You still have a suit to find, anyway.

Maybe you should be worried about more important things than a stupid school dance, but you aren't. Mostly, it's just so you have something to focus on. If you stop focusing - stop moving or falter for even a moment - you'll have nothing to do except think. And you've been over this. Thinking never works out for you.

Your mom was a dead end, so you go for your next safest bet. The other room on the second floor is a storage room. When you open this door, nothing emotionally traumatizing awaits you, and you're almost relieved before you remind yourself that you don't care.

This room holds nothing but boxes. Piles and piles of boxes that take up the whole room as far as you can tell. Boxes that hold nothing but your dad's miscellaneous belongings. Everything your mother could keep from his relatives. Anything she could get her hands on. As if this - whatever this is - would somehow preserve the life of your dad. As if it would keep him from being really dead.

It disgusts you.

One box that is conveniently placed next to your foot is labeled "FORMAL WEAR" in your mom's big, curling text. You write like her - just with blocky letters instead, because the kids in kindergarten found the idea of a boy writing with curvy letters to be the funniest shit on Earth.

You're always changing and adapting to keep yourself from getting hurt. As a result, your heart is a little dark and a little twisted and way too rough around the edges, but you don't mind. It's necessary for your continued protection. Even if that's just what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better.

You kneel down and, as carefully as you can, peel away the tape that's keeping the box shut. You tilt your head and listen for you mother's footsteps on the carpeted floor, but you hear nothing. Not that you're surprised. You open the box and reach inside, pulling out the first thing your hand comes in contact with. And - to your luck - your efforts pay off and you get a simple, but formal, black suit jacket. The box seems to hold a full outfit, actually, as you also pull out a white button-down undershirt, a black tie, matching black slacks, and a pair of dress shoes that look to be your size, if not a bit too big. There's more - like a pair of silver cufflinks and shoe polish - but you leave those in place.

You're about to close up the box and tuck the clothes away for tomorrow, when something glinting at the bottom of the box catches your attention. It can't be the cufflinks because those are in desperate need of a polish, so curiosity gets the best of you and you lean in for a better look. It's hard to see in the darkened room, but you can tell that it's a hook. The type of hook that pictures usually hang off of to be more specific.

You frown and, after trying and failing to work the picture out with your nails, sigh and tilt the box on it's side. The picture comes free just then, and you catch it before it can tumble to the floor and shatter and alert your mother to what you're doing. Although - you should be honest with yourself. If your mom is still aware of her surrounds, there's no way she'd come investigate while high. All she's going to do is listen to music from the 60s and have strange, mildly concerning thoughts. Or whatever it is that people do when they're high. You don't care enough to find out.

The picture is just as dusty as everything else in this room, but you can still just barely make it out. You have to set it down so that you don't drop it. Your hand is shaking, and you don't trust yourself to not drop it.

It's a wedding photo. You've seen pictures of your mom and dad's wedding before, of course, but there was always other people in those photos. This picture is just them, standing at the altar and looking so in love that it almost makes you sick. By the looks of things, the ceremony is being wrapped up, which means that this picture was taken just before the kiss and the signing of the wedding license.

Your mom looks so… happy. She's as happy as you've ever seen her, even taking into consideration how grainy and old the picture is. And you've seen your dad smile more times than you could ever hope to remember, but he's never smiled the way he's smiling at your mom. This was… the happiest day of your life. And you're intruding. The suit you pulled out of the box? It's the one he's wearing in the picture, in all his 5'8" glory.

You swallow hard and put the picture back where you found it. You don't want to see it again. You keep the outfit you had collected and close the box again. It's lighter than it used to be, but you don't think your mom will notice.

Again, you get the feeling that you're over reacting. That you're amping up the drama in the shitty sitcom that is your life. And maybe you are. It is just a picture, after all. But that's not why you can't bring yourself to look at it again.

The reason you can't stand that picture is because, for a fleeting moment when you were trying to make out the faces in the picture, it wasn't your dad standing at the altar on the happiest day of his life.

It was you.

Maybe that's why your mom reacted so strongly when she saw you. You look almost exactly like your dad - just shorter and with a tiredness in your face that he never had. And unlike your dad, you can't picture yourself tying the knot. You don't see yourself ever deserving happiness like that.

* * *

The next morning, you do your best to block out the negative emotions of the night before. And it's fairly easy. It's not healthy or wise, per say, but it's easy. You got most of the shock and tears out of your system the night before, curled up on your bed until one in the morning, and as a result, you're more tired than usual. You hope Dave doesn't notice. You do not want to have a talk about your feelings with him. Assuming that he actually cares, of course.

All you want to do today is get your suit (which is folded nicely in your backpack) to Kanaya, and somehow resist falling asleep in class. Anything more will be considered an accomplishment.

When you hear a knock at your door, you're ready for it. Your shoes are already on, your backpack is balanced on one shoulder, the T.V. is off, and everything else is in order. You are so ready to get out of here.

"Let's go." You say uncaringly as you brush past Dave. You shut the door behind you, but leave it unlocked. You don't think it matters, considering how low the crime rate is in this part of town.

Dave seems surprised, as he hesitates by the door before realizing that you're on the move and he hurries after you. "Woah, is something happening, Karkat? You look like shit." He points out as he slows his pace to match yours.

You ignore the fact that he used your real name. You're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Hahaha, Strider. I can see why the girls at school like you - you're a fucking charmer." You growl, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. You refuse to look at him.

"Yeah, I know." Dave agrees, smiling smugly as he brushes a strand of hair out of his face. You aren't watching when he does it, and you definitely don't want to be the person who does that for him. Not at all. You look away, and you don't notice when Dave's smile drops into a frown. You do notice though, when he puts a hand on your shoulder. You stiffen under his touch, and stop walking. "But seriously, Karkat." He says quietly. "What's wrong? I can tell that you're not yourself right now."

And for a moment, you want to tell him. He hasn't said more than 14 words, but you can feel your walls crumbling down around him. It would be so easy to place your trust in Dave. You get the feeling that he would understand if you broke down in front of him. He wouldn't judge, he would just hold you and let you spill out your deepest secrets.

It would be so fucking easy, and that's why you don't do it. Your mom took the easy path, and look at her.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine." You say gruffly, your voice tight with emotion as you continue walking. His hand drops from your shoulder, and you have to hold back a sigh of relief. It's so much easier to resist him when he keeps his distance. You think that he senses this, because he walks a few steps behind you the rest of the way to school. You're glad. Any closer, and he might notice the way you're choking back tears.

Kanaya is waiting for you by your locker, and you feel immensely better at the sight of her. If there's one thing you can always count on, it's Kanaya. She's never let you down, and you'd trust her with anything. Well, almost anything.

It's uncharacteristic as Hell, but when you get close enough, you wrap Kanaya in a hug. You can feel her surprise, but you can also tell that she's smiling as she puts her arms around your shoulders and holds you tight. You don't know why you're hugging her, and she doesn't know either, but you both just want to enjoy it. You've been needing this, and you think she can tell. Kanaya can always tell.

"Here." You say, pulling back and thrusting your backpack into her hands. You don't look at her. Instead, you focus on the lockers and hope that she doesn't get upset with your behavior. "And, uh. Thanks for doing this."

You see Kanaya put the backpack under her arm and smile before pulling you into another hug. This one doesn't last as long as the previous one did, and you have to swallow your disappointment when she pulls back. "Anytime, dear." She says fondly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You watch her go for a minute, her high heels clicking rhythmically against the tile as she takes her leave, before you remember that Dave is standing next to you. You don't know how you forgot.

"So…" He begins awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. His head is tilted toward you, but you can tell that he's not looking at you. "Are you and Kanaya…?" Dave asks after an impossibly long pause, letting himself trail off.

You blink once, tilting your head to the side. "What do you-?" You begin, then stop yourself. Oh. Oh shit. Your face turns bright red in under three seconds, and your confused expression turns into a look somewhere between disgust and embarrassment. "Fuck no!" You shout indignantly. "Kanaya is like a mom or a fussy older sister to me!" Or a moirail, you add silently, and then shake your head. You are not bringing quadrants into this. That will just make this story a thousand times more complicated. "Not even if we were the last two people on Earth and humanity's only chance for survival would we ever be anything more than friends! I like her plenty, Strider, just…" you cringe, fiddling and pulling on the hem of your sleeves. "...not like that." You like someone else (or you think that you could) but he doesn't need to know that. Not now, and not ever.

Dave looks instantly relieved once you've finished your little speech, and his formerly tense body sags against the lockers. You don't know why he was so uptight to begin with. What does it matter to him if you do or do not like Kanaya in that way? You don't (the thought makes you gag), but that's besides the point. Well, he is your boyfriend, so there's that, but you're pretty sure that he feels the same way about that title as you do. That it's just a title. You don't think that there can be a real relationship without genuine feelings, which is something that neither of you has towards the other. But that's the point of the game, right? To make this a real relationship?

The bell rings just then, making both you and Dave jump. And when you say "jump' you mean it. Dave goes flying, landing about four feet away from the lockers with a red tint to his face, his body stiffened like he's going to fight, and his shades tilted at such an angle that you can see the corner of his eyes. Or, some of them, at least. You can see enough to confirm that Dave has eyes and that he isn't some sort of Slenderman, at least. But as for the color? Still nothing. You wonder why he keeps his eyes covered all the time anyway. You don't get it. Maybe you'll ask someday, but you doubt it. For the time being, you just smile and give him a little nudge in the direction of class. Dave is such a fucking dork when he's not so worried about keeping up his cool kid act. You don't get to see the "real Dave" very often, but you really do like it. You like when he's honest around you.

Classes pass by slowly. You were expecting this of course, but it doesn't make it any less horrible. You have somewhere to be, dammit! Even if your idea of "somewhere" is sitting on your couch and staring at your phone while you wait for Kanaya to call. You know that you probably won't be getting your suit until tomorrow, and that you still have a day of classes to get through until the winter formal, but you try not to think about it. Thinking about it will only make the wait more _real_.

Somehow, you manage to not kill yourself all the way to lunch. How? You don't know. You give all the credit to your victory to daydreaming. Daydreaming has saved many a life, including yours. Unfortunately, it has also given you some… ideas.

You tell yourself that this idea of yours doesn't mean anything. You just need to work off some stress, and the easiest way you could think off just happened to include Dave. That's all it is. Just a coincidence.

But you learned from the last time he wanted to do something during lunch besides eat. Instead of waiting until you're at the lunch table, you put a hand on his arm when he comes to pick you up from your fifth period class. Dave seems confused, but doesn't move to pull away or leave as the other students move around you and make their way to the cafeteria. They all seem to ignore you and Dave, which is fantastic. You don't want any interruptions this time.

You wait until the crowd thins to only a handful of students at a time before you begin to pull Dave in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. He doesn't seem to mind or even care at all, and has one hand in his pocket the whole time you're walking. You don't notice until you've already stopped walking, but at some point, you had stopped holding his arm and had transferred instead to his hand. You're not entirely sure how that happened, but before you can poise it as a question, Dave beats you to it.

"I'm not questioning your judgement or anything Nubs, but, uh, what are we doing outside the boy's bathroom?" He asks, looking down at you. He's so lucky that you're desperate, or else that nickname would have sent you packing.

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose as you glare up at him. "Just- keep your stoic lips pursed for once in your fucking life and get in the bathroom before I change my mind." You huff, crossing your arms.

Dave stares at you for a second longer, one platinum blonde eyebrow arched well above his shades, before he just sighs. "Fine. But I better not regret this." He mutters, pushing open the door and holding it open for you like the gentleman he seems to think he is.

You attempt to be angry at him, but the only expression you seem to be capable of right now is embarrassment. So you put on the best glare you can muster, and pull him after you and into the bathroom. Your face remains a dark shade of red all the way to the end of the line of stalls. You know that Dave has probably noticed by now, but you try not to think about it as you push him into the biggest stall. The really big one that's supposed to be for paraplegics? Yeah, that one. Any stall would do, because no one else is in here, but this one is better built to suit your needs. Meaning: you don't like tight, uncomfortable spaces.

"Wha-" He tries to say as you lock the stall door behind the two of you. You don't have time for his stupid questions. You wasted five minutes waiting for the halls to clear, and you want to make every second of this encounter as memorable as possible.

You grab either side of Dave's face and pull him into you, kissing him for as long as you dare. Which is only about five seconds. You have some things to add.

"This means nothing." You tell him seriously, moving back just far enough for him to see you scowling. "I still detest you to the center of my very being. This is just an exercise - for both of us - to help relieve stress. Got it?"

You can see the gears turning in his head. You can see Dave trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you are coming to him for meaningless sloppy make outs. And you can tell that he's enjoying it. Your scowl deepens.

"Got it, babe." He snickers, a smirk growing on his face.

Your face turns red once more, but this time, it's more from anger than wayward thoughts of what the two of you could accomplish with thirty minutes alone. "Don't ever call me-" You snarl, teeth bared. But evidently, Dave is just as impatient as you, because you don't even get to finish your sentence before his lips are on yours.

And you hate to say it, but you melt. Your anger is suddenly nonexistent as you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer. He hums appreciatively, and his hands slide down to your hips. You feel Dave push the hem of your shirt up, and you pull back so that he can remove it completely. He does, muttering something along the lines of, "must be fucking dreaming" as he drops your shirt to the floor.

You're not worried. You know your own limits, and this is not one of them. All you feel is the urge to kiss him harder, as well as some mild annoyance when you remember that he's still fully clothed.

You tug on the bottom of his shirt, groaning impatiently. Dave understands pretty quickly, and he laughs at your demanding and desperate behavior. Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance, and you consider punching him in his (probably) strange, human dick. But before you can, he gives into your request, and his shirt is pulled off almost as fast as yours.

You take a moment to appreciate the spectacle that is Dave Strider without a shirt on. Just as you suspected, he isn't overly muscular, he's more… firm. You run your hands along his shoulders, and find that he isn't soft anywhere. It's all muscle. You don't know what he does to work out, but whatever it is, it's working. Dave shudders at your touch and leans in, resuming the kiss with renewed energy.

Despite yourself, you moan happily, raking your nails down his back. For a second, you worry that you messed up. You didn't claw hard enough to draw blood, but you're still relatively unfamiliar with how sensitive humans are. If it did hurt though, Dave doesn't seem to care, as his face turns a lovely shade of red and he let's out a sound that's somewhere between a moan and a groan of pain. "S-Shit, Karkat." He hisses, burying his face in your neck. You do it again, and have the absolute pleasure of watching Dave turn into a mess in your arms. You never would have pegged him as someone who enjoys this sort of thing, but you're not complaining.

Dave cups the back of your head, trying to get a grip on himself as he kisses you roughly. Neither of you is very good at kissing, though. Or maybe you're just out of sync, because your teeth keep scraping against his, and you're both not on the same page about where your tongues should be. It's an awkward, messy kiss, and you should feel embarrassed about acting this way with someone you supposedly hate, but you don't. This - being with Dave - just feels right, and you want to enjoy it before your logical thinking starts working again.

Evidently, Dave must agree on some level that the kiss is bad, because he pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact, and he laughs, which makes you turn red all over again as you punch him in the shoulder. Before you can pull your hand back though, he grabs your wrist, suddenly done laughing. You're still blushing, but it's not because you're angry anymore.

Up until that point, you had kept Dave up against the wall (somehow, with your tiny little body). But now he takes the initiative and turns the tables. You find yourself pushed up against the tile wall, one of his hands on your bare waist and the other still gripping your wrist.

"Karkat." Dave says, and you look up at him with wide eyes. It's hard to read his expression (as usual), but you think you see something that's not usually there. It looks like affection, or… tenderness? Wait.

"Dave, are you shaking?" You ask, frowning. Shit, you really fucked up with this, didn't you? You sent him into shock or give him a panic attack or something. You just know it.

You start to worry, but Dave just shakes his head, kissing you briefly. "Do me a favor Karkat, and shut up." He mutters, kissing down your jaw and to your neck. His words should offend you, but they don't. You know Dave well enough by this point to tell when he's being serious or not. And right now, the only tone in his voice is something akin to adoration.

You decide to do both of you a favor and shut up. Dave still has a firm grip on your right hand, so your thread the other one through his hair, tilting your head back against the cold wall to give him better access to your neck. You purr softly as his lips caress one of the most sensitive parts of your body, and officially stop caring about anything outside of the stall you and Dave are sharing.

Carefully, Dave lowers the both of you to the ground. You don't notice until you're already sitting, and by then it's too late to tell him to stop. Not that you want to. Standing was starting to get hard, anyway. For some reason, your legs feel like cooked spaghetti. You don't think that they would have kept you up much longer.

You sigh softly, leaning back as Dave moves from your neck to your collarbone, to your chest and lower still. He's being incredibly gentle with you, and the romantic inside of you loves it. Your eyes, which were closed, snap open once you feel him press a kiss to your stomach and tug down on your jeans.

This wakes you up, and you shift your position so that you're sitting up a little straighter. You put a hand on his shoulder, and Dave turns his attention from your pants to your face. You shake your head, pressing your lips together in a thin line.

In all honesty, your refusal to "go all the way" has nothing to do with the fact that you're with Dave. You would say no to anyone. You don't want to lose your virginity in the boy's bathroom during some thirty minute time slot when you are clearly not thinking correctly. You don't want it to happen anywhere until you're married, actually. Intimacy like that is for someone you can trust with your life, and for someone you're willing to spend the rest of that life with. It's not for a high school fling that isn't even a real relationship.

You think that Dave won't understand this. You're afraid that he'll be angry or worse. But he stares at you for a moment - unmoving as he studies your face - and then smiles softly. "Boundaries. Right." He nods, leaning up and kissing you gently.

Dave pulls back far too soon for your liking, and you just look at him for a minute before turning red. Now that you've both worked off some "stress" you're suddenly painfully aware of your actions and your surroundings. The tile against your back is cold and uncomfortable, and you feel self-conscious under Dave's black stare.

"I-" You go to say, only to be interrupted when the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. You mentally curse yourself, reaching for your shirt and doing your best to avoid looking at Dave as you slip it on. Shit, lunch is already over? You don't think this is fair.

"I'm gonna go out ahead so that people aren't 100% sure about what we were doing in here together." Dave says, having already finished dressing. He has his phone camera open, and is fixing his hair, using the reflection as a guide. "Got like 10 texts from John…" He mutters, then turns to you with a smile. "Oh. And if I was you, I'd do my best to fix that "just had sex" hair of yours."

You hate your life. You hate everything leading up to this moment in time. There you are, laying on the bathroom floor alone, with only one thought on your mind. Of all the shit you should be focusing on or doing, you can only think about one thing.

You still have over 24 hours until the dance.

Fucking fantastic.

* * *

 **A/N: *looks at comments talking about how this is a light-hearted story and should be fun to read* HAHAHA, SURE! You guys should know better than to trust me. You think it's going to be fluff and then - PLOT TWIST - suddenly you're feeling things! But unlike the soulmate AU I did for these two, I promise that this one has a happy ending. Yes, I picked an ending, and I get the feeling that you guys will like it.**

 **You know - if you can wait like four or so more chapters and probably 20,000+ words.**

 **Speaking of chapters, it was running a bit long, so I just decided to save the dance for next chapter. Sorry not sorry! Also, updates may be getting a little slower, guys. I have school starting up soon, and until I can befriend the librarians to get at the computers, I'll be writing this on my phone which - yes - is a pain in the ass. So just bare with me! I'm hoping to have this done before Christmas.**

 **Hints for the next chapter: More confusing feelings, and that heart-to-heart, the dancing, and the blatant shipping that I promised last chapter. Consider this a set-up chapter.**


	4. These Twists and Turns of Fate

**A/N: You know, I actually thought about writing a sex scene for this or at least implying it, but that just didn't feel right. I personally don't think that sex is sacred and should be saved until marriage, but Karkat - being the hopeless romantic that he is - probably does. That's his character, and I don't really want to change him just for some lame, mildly arousing stimuli. So have some DaveKat that isn't rated M.**

* * *

To your surprise and slight confusion, Dave doesn't mention the bathroom incident for the rest of the day. He stays with you for most of the school day, walks you home, and then leaves without coming inside like you expected. You assume that he's giving you space out of fear that he made you uncomfortable or angry, so you do your best to not think about it.

He doesn't even bring it up the next day when he's walking you to school. He doesn't say much of anything, actually, but you can't complain. It's works out for both of you. Dave clearly needs some time to indulge in his thoughts, and you don't think that you'll be capable of anything except that until this dance that's happening tonight.

Because holy Hell are you nervous. You think that you have become the very embodiment of nervous, because that's all you feel anymore. Kanaya was waiting by your locker this morning, and she handed you your backpack holding your tailored suit, both of which you had completely forgotten about. You should have felt relieved or happy, but you didn't. Just more nervous jitters as you tucked the backpack safely in your locker before Dave could ask what it held.

Not even Kanaya's promise to stop by early with Rose to check on you made you feel any better. You are empty of awareness and the ability to care. Admittedly, it's not that different from how you usually act, except now you mean it.

If there's one good thing about how dazed you are, it's that school is over so fast that it makes your head spin. It seems like you were just sitting in first period and then you blinked and were standing on your porch. You wish every day passed like that.

You mumbled a quick goodbye to Dave, and he distractedly gave you a kiss on your forehead before turning and leaving. You don't even think that he realized he did it, but it was still nice.

You step inside, and barely have two seconds to yourself before the weight of what's going to happen in just four hours hits you like a brick. Or a truck. Or something else that's heavy and hurts a lot. You're not nervous anymore, which is good, but that's only because you're too fucking terrified to be nervous.

You've been to the dance before, of course. During your first year, you went with John as friends. He spent the whole time dancing and talking with Dave's older sister, and you spent most of the time pretending that you didn't want to end your suffering on top of one of the nearby tables. The second year was better. You and Jade went as friends instead, and had a pretty good time, actually. You're ashamed to admit that you were crushing on her just a bit, but your feelings for her never went beyond a slight twinge. You do appreciate your friendship with Jade, though. She's a great girl, but not your type.

Actually, when you think about your type, you see someone who's tall, fit but not overly muscular, pale, blonde, and-

You know what? Never mind. You don't have a type. And even if you did (which you don't), there wouldn't be time to think about it. Because you're on the verge of a break down, and you are flipping the fuck out.

You grab your backpack and duck into the bathroom to get changed. The dance is technically in four hours, but you don't care. You need to be ready. More than ready, you need - shit - future vision, or something. You don't know what to expect for tonight. Dave could be genuinely trying to treat you like his boyfriend, or he could be setting you up for another bucket-full-of-water prank. Or something could go wrong, and he cancels at the last minute, or worse, he could get here early.

So many variables, and so little time to panic over each and every one of them.

You think that Kanaya is going to be here about a half an hour before Dave, and that makes you feel a little bit better. At the very least, the thought has calmed you down enough to open your backpack and pull your suit out without creasing the perfectly smoothed cloth. Kanaya really went all-out on these, actually. She ironed them all very carefully, to the point that the only wrinkles are where she folded the clothes to fit into your backpack.

It's all very impressive, and you pause for a moment to ponder if Kanaya is some sort of goddess before you decide that you're stupid and should just get dressed. You strip carelessly, tossing your clothes wherever, and take much more care with getting clothes on. Your hands are shaking, but you manage to get dressed without ruining your 's the easy part. The hard part is tying your tie. You think you saw a diagram for this once. You can totally do this.

You thread the tie under your collar, and cross the thicker end over top of the thinner bit. Then you… fold the bigger part under the thin part, and…

This is stupid.

Kanaya knows how to tie a tie. She can help you with it. And if not, well… ties aren't you thing anyway. It won't surprise anyone if you show up with an untied tie. They're stupid, anyway.

Well, your suit is one thing you can check off of your mental checklist. It actually fits pretty well, like a glove. It's very nice. You actually look… right in it, and not like a three year old wearing clothes ten sizes too big. It's a nice change. You make a mental note to thank Kanaya when she gets here in - you push up your sleeve to check your watch - three hours and fifteen minutes.

And you're back to waiting.

You manage to pass some time by finally finishing that TV show you love. Unfortunately, there's only three episodes you haven't watched yet, and while _Rick and Morty_ is a fantastic show, you do not have the patience to sit through episodes you've already seen five times. Especially not after a cliffhanger like the one they just dropped on you. Unbelievable. You never thought that cruelty like this could exist in the comprehensible universe, but you guess you were wrong. At least season three is coming out soon.

When you check the time again, you are happy to see that Kanaya's visit is only two hours away. You've been careful not to roll around too much on the couch, lest your suit get wrinkled, and you hope that Dave appreciates the effort. He doesn't appreciate much, but he better appreciate this.

You lay on the couch for about ten minutes, thinking about nothing in particular, before you decide to do something else to pass the time. You tap your fingers against the side of the couch impatiently while you think.

Predictably, you think about Dave. He is your date for today's event, so of course you'll be thinking about him. You're still not entirely sure about your feelings for him. You've warmed up to him quite a bit during these past few months, and that confuses you. He acts as if you and him have always been close, and that he wasn't the biggest pain in your ass for the better part of two years. You wish you knew why. You were expecting him to play the passive-aggressive card, where he's still kind of a dick, but is somehow even more charming that before. But that's not what happened. Dave is… a great boyfriend. You hate to admit it, but he is. He's sweet and considerate and a great kisser. He's always looking out for you, and you've never seen him flirt with anyone else.

Actually, you've never seen him flirt at all. How does he get a girlfriend without ever flirting? Wait. Does he flirt with you? You think he does, but you're not sure. The only kind of flirting you're certain about is the kind that's used in your romcoms, but when it comes to Dave, you might as well through that knowledge out the window for all the good it does you.

Someone should write a book about this. But with anyone else as the main character. You don't think you'd make a good main character in a book or a movie or anything in between. Maybe you could be the sassy supporting character or the best friend, but that's it.

Speaking of characters, you wonder what role your friends would play in the shitty soap opera that is your life. Kanaya and Rose are the stereotypical lesbian couple, of course. Where people think that one can't exist without the other, even though they're both separate people. And John is the straight guy. The one who sort of balances out all this gay shit. You could see Terezi and Jade as the same type of character. The female friend who doesn't put up with bullshit and makes sure that the love interests aren't stupid enough to remain completely oblivious to the feelings of the other. And Gamzee is the stoner friend that's mostly there for atmosphere or when it's convenient to the story. Sollux is the computer nerd that every friend group seems to have, and-

Shit. That makes you and Dave the oblivious love interests, doesn't it? It's a good thing you don't love each other. At the most, this whole dating thing has taught you that you and Dave could have been friends if you had first met in any other way. Maybe if you had been on good terms from the start you would "love" him, but as it stands, you don't.

But maybe he loves you? It wouldn't be the weirdest thing to ever happen to you, but it's up there. You don't see why Dave would love you. If he had any nice intentions, he would have apologized on the first day like Jade did and - fuck - asked you out or something. But as it stands, he clearly isn't interested in anything serious or long-term. He told you that he wanted to play a game, and that's what this is. A game. You're a toy. Something to amuse him until graduation, where he will crush your heart when you no doubt confess your love like the gullible dope you are.

This is something that should make you sad. It doesn't. Being sad would mean that you had been hoping for Dave's feelings to be genuine the whole time. And you don't want that. You don't want him to love you, because you don't love him, and you'd rather not break his heart. Your discovery about Dave's intentions just makes you mad - like everything else. Maybe you should start playing seriously. You should actually try to make Dave fall for you. That way, when this is all over, it hurts him just as much as he wanted to hurt you. Dave is playing a sick game, but you're sicker. You can turn the tables like he wouldn't believe.

A sudden knock at the door jolts you from your thinking, and you're incredibly surprised to see that it's already 5:30. Holy shit. Did you really spend two fucking hours just thinking about you and Dave and your role in a horrible romance movie?

You hate yourself right now. Well, more than usual at least.

You open the door, and are immediately struck speechless by how… perfect Kanaya looks in her fancy dress. You're not ashamed to admit that she's the very embodiment of a lady, no matter how much of a sister she is to you. Pretty is still pretty, okay? And she matched the color theme, too. Impressive.

She's wearing a light, icy blue, which is new, but not at all bad. It looks great on her. Her dress only has one sleeve, as her right shoulder is bare. The blue ends just below her stomach, trailing behind her down to her ankles, and she has a skirt the color of snow that ends just below her knees. She compliments the look with a pair of black pumps, and has done her make-up in black, too. Black lips, black eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and whatever else girls use to make themselves up. Strangely, she looks paler than usual. Almost more pale than a troll should be, but you chalk that up to the lighting and all the black she's outlined her features with. Anyone else would look trashy in that get up, but her? Not a chance. Kanaya could probably make a garbage bag look good without even trying.

"Well, you look charming." She says, humor lacing her words as her lips stretch into a small smile. You don't get to reply before her hands are on your collar. She presses it flat, smoothing it with her thumbs, and then move on to your tie. You're not even going to wonder how Kanaya can tie something that fast. Or even how anyone can. The important thing is that you quickly end up with a tied tie. You're even going to overlook how tight she tied it. Knowing you, it will probably come undone by the end of the night even if she glued it together.

"I hope you don't mind if I take pictures." Rose speaks up from behind her girlfriend. Kanaya moves inside to make room for her date, and you get about three seconds to process the large camera in her hands before a bright light goes off and blinds you.

"Fuck, Lalonde!" You shout, digging your palms into your eyes as white spots fade in and out of your vision. "We already have a blind person in our friend group! Turn that Hellish flash off for Christ's sake!"

You blink rapidly, trying to fix your vision, and you hear them move deeper into the house. One of them - Kanaya, you think - pulls you over to the couch and sits you down. The door shuts just after, followed by the sound of skirts swishing as Rose (you're certain that it's Rose) sits in the nearby chair. When you can see properly again, you are so not going to describe her dress. That will show her. "Hm. Perhaps you're right." She hums thoughtfully, and you think she's tinkering with her camera. "The picture came out very nice, but that was a little overkill. I'll adjust the flash."

You hiss lowly, rubbing your eyes. Your vision is coming back at least, but everything is still a little off. It's kind of unnerving, and you're secretly glad that Kanaya is choosing to comfort you rather than sit with Rose. Well, technically, the chair can only hold one person, but you've seen them do the gross couple thing where they sit on the other's lap. You're glad that they're sparing what's left of your vision.

"What's with the pictures, anyway?" You ask, looking over at Rose. Or in her general direction. One of the two. Shit, how powerful even is her camera? "Who do you think is going to want to remember this disaster?"

Rose shrugs, flipping through some pictures already on the device. "Our parents, for one. School dances are apparently a big deal. That's their favorite romantic movie trope. It's embarrassing."

"Your parents?" You speak up, immediately interested. Dave never talks about his family beyond Rose. The only reason you know that he has an older brother and sister is because they were seniors when you were a freshman. But beyond that? You have no idea.

She nods in reply, glancing over at before looking back down. "Yes. Our parents wanted me to take pictures of this occasion. They bought the camera, after all. You know…" She changes the topic before you can interrupt, a small smile on her lips. "...if you like, Karkat, I can tell you what our family tree looks like. A fair warning, though. It's a tad complicated and more than a little ridiculous."

You don't care how complicated her stupid family is. You want to know everything about Dave that you can. For, er, strategy, of course! Yeah. Sure. You nod, giving Rose your full attention. You notice that Kanaya looks to be interested to. Maybe Dave isn't the only secretive one in the Strider-Lalonde family. It's weird that they have different last names, but you think that Rose is about to explain that, so you stay quiet.

She clears her throat, getting comfortable as she turns to face you fully. You hope that you didn't accidentally sign up for a chapter's worth of exposition. "Me and Dave are half-siblings. We share the same father, and two different genetic mothers. That's where our older brother and sister come in. See, before my parents actually met, Dave's dad was in an affair with a married women. Apparently, neither man knew about the other, and when the woman's husband found out, he left her. Understandably." Rose nods a little at this part, her hands clasped in front of her seriously. "At the time, Dave's mom had a son. She was in a mess, trying to figure out how to care for a child with no husband, and it only got worse when she found out she was pregnant with Dave. Seeing as how she hadn't had sex with her husband in almost a year, the baby could only belong to her secret lover. So once it was born, she left both of her children with him and disappeared."

You frown in distaste shaking your head. "Wow. What a bitch. I'm almost glad she left. She clearly would not have made a good mother in even the loosest definition."

Rose hums in agreement, smiling wide. "Agreed. It all worked out in the end, though. Afterwards, Dave's dad met my mom. She also had a child, who is, today, my older sister. I was the cause of their union. Neither of them had been very good at protection, so the marriage happened far sooner than it should have. After only a month or two of knowing each other. The good news is, it's still going strong. They're more in love than they ever have been. And all while balancing incredibly successful careers. It's almost an inspiration." She finishes with a small sigh.

You're glad she told you, but that was a little ridiculous. Kind of stupid too, but you suppose that if every family was normal, the world would be a very boring place. "Careers?" You blink, remembering that she mentioned their jobs briefly. "What do they do for a living, anyway?"

"Oh. They both-" She goes to say, when a knock at the door interrupts her.

You tense, and climb to your feet. Nervous or not, this is your house and your boyfriend, and you're going to answer the damn door. Kanaya stops you though, fixing your tie and smoothing out your shirt. You would be annoyed if it was anyone else, but this is Kanaya. You know that she wants Dave to like how you look just as much as you do. Finally, she gives you a reassuring smile and pushes you towards the door. You sigh, taking a deep breath, and open the door.

You take one look at Dave before you groan, rolling your eyes. "You, Dave Strider, are the biggest asshole that I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." You tell him. The dance has a theme. Blue and white. And what does Dave show up in? Red. Bright fucking red that hurts your eyes to look at. He can't even wear the color as an undershirt, or something (the undershirt he is wearing, for convenient reference, is black). His entire suit is red. His pants, at least, are a darker shade of red, which helps balance the outfit out. He had the decency to wear a white bowtie, but it seems to be more of a mockery to the dress theme than anything.

He stays quiet for a moment, and you can't be sure, but you think he's looking at you. You hope he's looking at you. For non-romantic purposes, obviously. He snaps out of his daze after a few seconds, and steps closer. You stiffen, and he does something that you weren't expecting. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling softly. "You look great, babe." Dave mutters into your ear, one hand reaching down to give yours a gentle squeeze.

Now it's your turn to be dazed. He just- turned the tables on you without even trying. You should be mad, but you aren't. Your cheek burns where his lips touched it, and once again, you find yourself questioning his motives. Does he care about you genuinely, or not? You can't tell anymore.

Rose holds up her camera expectantly, and he scowls. "Did you turn the flash off?" He asks, crossing his arms.

"Doesn't matter." Rose smirks. "Mom and dad want to see this mysterious boyfriend of yours, and since you refuse to bring him over, pictures are the only thing that will satisfy them." She pauses. "Besides outright stalking and kidnapping, I mean."

Dave sighs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You swallow a small squeak of surprise, resting one hand on his chest on impulse. Blush makes it's way to your cheeks, and you pray to God that it doesn't show up in the picture.

Luckily, Rose has relented and the flash is off. She takes about five pictures of you and Dave in various positions that he makes up on the spot, before deciding that she's satisfied. You hope that Dave's parents approve. You get the feeling that they'd be happy as long as he's happy, though.

"M'Lady." Dave taps your shoulder, and you turn to him with a scowl. This does nothing to dampen his grin, and he opens the front door for you with a flourish. "Your chariot awaits."

At this, you can't help but smile. You quickly hide it, but not before Dave sees and his own smile widens. You step outside, the other three trailing out behind you, and are pleasantly surprised to see a limo pulled up outside of your house.

Your eyes widen, and you shoot a glance at the ever-smug Dave. "Holy shit." You breathe. You've never even seen a limo in real life, let alone rode in one. "Is that…?" You ask, brow furrowed in confusion as you look over at Dave.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leading you over to the vehicle, one arm around your waist all the while. "Yeah. Me and Rose are class acts, Karkat. We like to treat our dames to only the finest accommodations." He smiles down at you, and you are faintly aware of Kanaya giving Rose a kiss as thanks.

Should you… kiss Dave? Is that how you thank someone for renting a limo for you? You're not sure. No one has ever treated you to a limo ride. Or anything at all. Dave is your first real relationship. You're not going to count the embarrassing, passive-aggressive bullshit that you and Terezi did for an entire year. You want to completely forget about that.

You're seriously considering kissing Dave. Just a peck. And he looks like he's waiting for you to do it, too. But then Rose and Kanaya announce that they're going to leave without you two if you don't get in the limo already, and you've missed your chance. Then again, this is a dance you're going to. You should have plenty of chances to sneak in a kiss.

Right?

The ride in the limo is short lived (though not at all disappointing) and you soon arrive at the school for this dance. And, just like you suspected, Dave sticks out like a sore thumb. Literally, thanks to all the red he's wearing. At the very least, it shouldn't be hard to find him in a crowd. Everyone else more or less matches the dress code, with splashes of darker blue (John, of course) here and there. This is likely because the boys were made to match their dates. You're not sure why, but something about a school dance with a dress code and a cheesy slogan makes girls wet.

The gym actually impresses you. The planning committee for this year really went all out, likely because this year, Rose was finally old enough to be the task manager. That girl is so good at organizing people that it sometimes scares you.

White and blue streamers hang from the ceiling, and from these streamers hangs little snowflakes. They dot the room, hanging from their own separate string if they're too big or out of the way. It has a sort of Harry Potter feel to it, and it automatically earns your admiration. There's a DJ booth directly across from the doors, though the person manning it has a pretty shitty idea of good music. Piles of fake snow at littered around the floor, with a light sprinkling anywhere everywhere else. Even the unofficial dance floor, which is the whole first floor of the gym.

Did you mention that your gym has two floors? Stairs against the wall on either side of the room lead up to two separate, smaller gyms. Here, there are tables for couples to sit at and most likely do other, less school appropriate things.

The food tables are pushed up against the back wall next to the stairs, and it is distinctly Christmas and holiday themed. You make a mental note to avoid the table at all costs, unless, of course, you get pathetically desperate. The lights have been tinted blue, and soft classical Christmas music plays in the background. This is a winter formal after all. You're certain that, just like the previous two years, someone will spike the punch at around 8 and then anything formal goes out the window. But for now, you're just going to enjoy it while everyone is still sober.

There's a little photo area set up by the entrance for couples to get a "touching memento" with interchangeable backgrounds. Rose and Kanaya eagerly head over. You, of course, do not. Dave seems to appreciate this, and quickly pulls you off to the side of the room.

You think that he's going to try and kiss you while the dance supervisors aren't looking for kids snogging in the corner, but he doesn't. Instead, he makes what is possibly the biggest mistake that someone can make during a dance.

"Karkat, can you give me a few minutes to sort something out?" He asks, tossing irritated looks over his shoulder as he talks. "This DJ obviously knows jackshit about anything, so I figured that I could teach him how to do a semi-decent job. I can't stand this trash, let alone dance to it." Dave explains.

You can't believe that he's making this mistake. If there's one thing you've learned from your romcoms, it's that you never leave your dates to do something else. Once you do that, that gives the real love interest and/or the unappealing alternative the opportunity to make a move. At the very least, Eridan lives in Florida. According to Feferi, he can act rather… repulsive at dances once he's gotten into the spiked punch. And considering that he reportedly had a crush on you at one point, you do not want to be there for that.

Despite the many alarms going off in your head, you sigh internally, nodding some. "Yes, please. Educate this degenerate piece of shit. I'll be upstairs, praying for his rapid improvement under your masterful wig."

If he notices the sarcasm in your voice, he doesn't say anything about it. Dave hugs you quickly, pressing a messy kiss to your cheek before heading off. "Thanks, you're the best." He tells you with a relieved smile.

And by the time you recover from that kiss, he's already lost in the rapidly growing crowd. You hate when Dave is sweet. It just further cloaks his dickish personality.

Still, with nothing better to do, you climb the stairs to the second floor seating area and prepare to wait. This is sad, even for you, but what else are you supposed to do? Your friends are either not here or busy with their dates. Unlike you.

You wish that you could complain, but to be fair, you do notice a noticeable improvement in the DJ's skills once Dave starts helping him. From your position overlooking the first floor gym, it's easy to see your "date" helping out the pathetic fuck. The guy seems to genuinely appreciate Dave's advice. You, on the other hand, don't. You didn't even know that Dave had a serious interest in music, let alone DJ-ed at what sounds like an above average level. It's amazing and makes you think.

You really don't know a lot about Dave. He does a good job of keeping his personal life to himself, and you do a good job of not caring. Well, not anymore. From now on, you want to know all there is to know about Dave Elizabeth Strider. You had to learn his middle name from John for God's sake! And that's only because he likes to use Dave's name when he gets really upset with his friend, for a variety of reasons. It doesn't happen very often, admittedly. Only about once or twice for the entirety of the three years you've lived in this town.

You know Dave's favorite color. It's red, though you have no idea why. You know that his favorite subject is math because it's so easy for him, and you know that he's fluent in ASL. You know that he's somewhat ashamed of his parents and is very private. Other than that? Not much. Just little bits and pieces of his personality that you've picked up here and there. You know that he's not as calm and collected as he pretends to be, and that his walls are thicker than you give him credit for. You also know that he, for whatever reason, is very interested in you. This leaves you confused beyond any other puzzle that you have ever encountered.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" A voice snaps you out of your wandering thoughts, and you turn away from Dave to look up at Jade.

You're about to tell her to go away, but she, of course, sits in the seat across from you without waiting for a reply. She's alone, which surprises you. You thought for sure that a girl like Jade would have a date. She's pretty, nice, has a contagious smile, and is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. You don't really want to ask about her love life, but asking questions is the only way you're going to get to know Dave better, so maybe you could ask her just for practice? Yeah. Why not, right?

You clear your throat awkwardly, and she looks up from her phone to stare at you. "So, uh, where's your date?" You ask after a pause, resisting the urge to tug on your collar. That's the number one tell that someone is nervous, and you're not nervous, dammit! You're perfectly confident.

Jade smiles, and holds her phone up for you to see. "Here." She tells you. She has Pesterchum open, and she scrolls through the chat so that you can see just how extensive the walls and walls of green and orange text are.

And you have to admit. You're impressed.

"You're dating the orange text guy?" You ask, confused. You know that Jade is straight, so male pronouns should be fine. This isn't Tumblr, after all. You doubt that she gives a shit one way or the other about what pronouns you use for the color of text.

She nods, bringing her phone back and typing out a quick reply before turning it off. "Yeah. Dave introduced me to his cousin in Texas through video chat, and we just kind of clicked." Jade giggles, wrapping a strand of her brown hair around her finger. "It took him a year to work up the courage to ask me out, though. Can you believe it?"

You're happy that Jade is in a nice relationship, but a part of you can't help but feel bitter. Her boyfriend is in Texas, and even he's spending time with her at this dance. Meanwhile, your date is perfectly in reach. He just has better things to do, you suppose.

"Thinking about Dave?" Jade asks suddenly, interrupting your thoughts once again.

You blink, and then cringe, giving her your best apologetic look. She had probably been talking to you, and what were you doing? Ignoring her in favor of indulging in self-depreciation. "Sorry, Jade, I was just-" You go to say, and she holds up a hand, smiling softly.

"Don't worry about it, Karkat." She sighs, shaking her head. "I know that dating Dave can be trying. Especially since it's so hard for him to open up."

She just keeps smiling and smiling at you, as if she's waiting for you to figure out… something. You're about to ask what she's looking at you for, and then everything clicks and your jaw goes slack. "You mean that you and Dave…?"

Her smile is still there, but now it's nervous and hesitant. "Yeah." She confirms, nodding. "Just for a little while. We kept it between the two of us. I'm sure you've noticed by now that Dave values his privacy." Then, her smile drops completely and she grimaces. "Maybe a little too much, actually."

This, you can agree with. Dave is far too private. You know that there's probably a good reason for this, like maybe childhood trauma, but you still don't like it.

"Jade, can you tell me about Dave?" You ask suddenly, reaching across the table and taking her hand in yours to make it clear how serious you are. Touching people is something that you're not normally okay with, and she knows this.

She looks from your conjoined hands, then up at you, then back at your hands, until you're worried that she's stuck in a loop. And finally, Jade sighs, giving your hand a little squeeze. "What do you want to know?" She raises an eyebrow.

You assume that there are going to be some things she won't answer, out of respect for her friend's privacy, but there is probably still a lot that is allowed, so why not something simple? You think for a moment, and then you have your question ready. "What are his interests?" Christmas is coming up soon, so why not be prepared? With as little as you know about Dave right now, you'd rather shoot yourself in the foot than try to find a thoughtful, meaningful gift for him.

Jade begins talking immediately. You guess that she really does know Dave better than you. "He likes photography." She begins. "Not color - he takes really pretty black and white ones, and he has his own darkroom at home. It's top secret, though. I keep telling him that his pictures are fantastic, but he still thinks that it's a lame hobby. He writes raps in his free time, and for the most part, they're pretty good. He spins his own music, or makes remixes with his turntables. He has this weird collection of preserved dead things that makes him really uncomfortable, but he won't tell me why he keeps them or how he even finds so many dead things." Jade pauses, giving you a look that you don't quite understand. "And he likes you." You expect this to be said with a knowing smirk, but instead, she looks completely serious. Eerily serious, and it's making you uncomfortable.

You clear your throat, gently pulling your hand from hers and resisting the urge to shift in your seat. "So, uh, do you know why he likes me?" This, you think, is the most important question you could possibly ask, if only because your curiosity is almost overwhelming. You always thought that Dave hated you, but if the past few months have told you anything, it's that he cares about you. Are his feelings honest? You're not sure. And, more importantly, do you want those feelings to be real? You… don't want to think about that question just yet. You don't think that you're ready for the answer.

"He-" She begins to say, only to be cut off when someone clears their throat behind her. You bite your tongue, holding back a groan of disappointment. Dammit, you were so close!

Dave has his hand on her shoulder, and he seems completely at ease as he smiles down at Jade. "You're not turning my boyfriend against me, are you?" He asks, humor lacing his words.

Laughing, Jade stands up, giving Dave a brief hug. "Wouldn't dream of it." She grins. Her phone chimes in her hand, and you know without needing to ask who the text is from. "Now, while I sweep my boyfriend off his feet, why don't the two of you share a dance before the music quality drops again?" Jade suggests brightly. It's dark in the gym, but the wink she gives you is clear as day. Hopefully, your blush is not as obvious.

There's a pause, and then Dave nods slowly, looking over at you. "Great idea, Jade." He compliments. You think that an unspoken moment is shared between them, because she mouths a quick "good luck" at you before scurrying away to reply to the orange text. Dave offers his hand to you, smiling like a perfect gentleman, and your stomach drops to your feet. "So, what do you say, Karkat? Wanna dance?"

Even if he wasn't your boyfriend, you don't think that you would have been able to say no. Dave has a certain charm about him that makes people want to say yes to even his most ridiculous requests.

So it's no surprise when you take his hand, albeit with plenty of hesitance. He doesn't seem to notice this, and pulls you to your feet. You're both still on the second floor, so he leads you down the stairs to the dance floor. On the way down, you notice him share a nod with the DJ, who responds by giving him a thumbs up. You watch him adjust some knobs and dials and the slider things that you see in movies, and then select a new soundtrack from his playlist.

The generic pop song that was playing in the background transitions smoothly into a slow song, and you're dimly aware that it's one of your favorites. You haven't heard it since before your dad died, but it's still just as good as ever. Little Wonders, by Rob Thomas, you think. ((And yes, you should listen to this song while reading this part.)) You'll have to look it up when you get home, but for now…

You and Dave step onto the first floor, weaving your way through the crowd. It's about 6:45, and the formal started at 6, so most people are here by now. As such, you expect that working through the crowd will be hard, but Dave navigates the sea of bodies with ease. He stops towards the center of the group, and takes your other hand in his. He puts it on his shoulder and you, taking the hint, do the same with your other hand. He holds your waist loosely, gently, and almost… unsure. It's hard to tell through his stupid poker face, but you think that Dave is nervous. You don't blame him. You are, too. You're kind of always nervous around him.

The lyrics start in the background, and you can hear them perfectly. You expected people to be talking, but one glance around shows couples dancing like you and he are. Unlike you and he though, they look perfectly at ease. The girl with her head resting on his chest, and some couples are even kissing. You look back to Dave, who looks stiff in his tux and not anywhere near as comfortable as he was when he picked you up earlier. You rest a hand on his chest, shuffling forward a bit, and that seems to wake him up. Dave sways to the side ever so slightly, and you follow suit, letting him lead.

The dance is a little awkward and really improvised, but you find yourself smiling anyway. You and him are turning in a slow circle, swaying back and forth to the slow, steady beat. It's nothing like you imagined it would be, but it's better in its own right.

"Hey, Karkat?" He says quietly about halfway through the song.

You lift your head up (when did you lay against his chest?) and look at him with big eyes. "Yeah?" You blink. He doesn't look very good. Did you do something wrong?

He doesn't say anything immediately, and your attention turns back to the lyrics. "Time falls away, but these small hours- these small hours, still remain." You think that these words can apply to your situation in an odd way. Especially the verse that follows. You don't remember the exact words too well, so you attempt to listen, but Dave opens his mouth and his words take center stage instead.

"I just… I'm really glad you agreed to be my boyfriend." He tells you slowly.

His eyes are burning holes in your soul, and for the first time in a long while, you feel uncomfortable under his gaze. "What do you mean?" You ask, just as hush-hush as him. "I always thought you hated me."

Now you're both uncomfortable. Dave's head tilts a little to the left, meaning that he's looking away from you. "I… could never hate you, Karkat." His expression looks a little pained, and you frown. What is that supposed to mean? He never hated you? Then why did Dave always treat you like the shittiest piece of shit he ever stepped in?

"Dave-" You go to say, but you're cut off when he presses his lips to yours. Your protests die in your throat, and you kiss back softly. Your questions and anxiety and uncertainties seem to melt away when he kisses you like this. Like you're the most important thing in the world to him.

The kiss feels a little wet, and it takes you a moment to realize that tears are falling on your cheeks. You don't know why you're crying. You go to pull away, but Dave beats you to it. "I have to go." He tells you in a rush, already backing away.

It's dark, but you can see the dampness of his cheeks and you can see that there tears there are clear, not red. You weren't the one crying.

You reach out to grab him. "What are you-?" He dodges your pathetic attempt to stop him, and quickly turns, shoving his way through the crowd. The grace and confidence from earlier is gone. Maybe it was never really there at all.

You suddenly only know three things that are absolutely true.

One, your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are dating Dave Strider.

Two, Dave is nothing like the person he pretends to be.

And three, you just accidentally fell in love with him.

You sing softly to yourself the words you forgot earlier. "All of my regret will wash away, somehow. I cannot forget the way I feel right now." The words feel right, rolling off your tongue with ease. You think that this is what he wanted to tell you. You're beginning to think that maybe - just maybe - Dave loves you, too.

He's disappeared through the crowd now, and ditched you at your first real dance, but you're not going to hold it over his head. You feel oddly nice. For some reason, finally admitting to yourself that you lost his stupid game makes you feel lighter than air. You've been denying your feelings for him for almost three whole years. You don't believe in love at first sight. You do, however, believe that hating him was a delusion in it's own right. You've always been bad at games, and this one is no exception. You love Dave.

And just in time for Kankri "Relationships-Are-Nonsense" Vantas to visit for Christmas break. Great.

You wonder if a bullet through your foot would keep you hospitalized long enough to avoid him.

* * *

 **A/N: I bet you guys know what's happening next chapter.**

 **(Warning: Next chapter contains Kankri. Do not read if you can't tolerate long rants that are long and poorly done because I can't write Kankri for shit.)**


	5. Only Fools Rush In

**A/N: I really wish that I could write this more often. But high school sucks. Speaking of sucking, enjoy some more of my writing.**

* * *

When you wake up, you immediately wish that you hadn't. Last night, Gamzee somehow managed to sneak alcohol in and spike the punch. You wouldn't normally drink, but you were upset. Dave had left you, and you wanted to relax and forget. You probably shouldn't indulge in escapes like that, and with the way your head is pounding as a result, you can safely say that you won't be drinking again anytime soon.

You guess that one of your friends must have stayed sober and taken pity on you, because you wake up in your bed. The curtains are drawn, and you're grateful. It's just past eight in the morning according to your alarm clock, and the sun is a cruel mistress this early in the day. You're glad that today is Saturday, and also that you get two weeks off for Christmas break. It's primarily a human holiday (trolls usually use the much more sensible 12th Perigee's Eve) but if it gets you time out of school, you don't really care.

You groan lowly, muffling the sound with your pillow, and force yourself out of bed. The ground feels weird beneath your bare feet and your legs are a little shaky, but you walk towards your bedroom door anyway. You wonder if something happened last night. All you remember is Gamzee shoving cup after cup after cup of punch into your hands, but after that? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

You open the door, and immediately feel more awake. The smell of pancakes and bacon fills the hallway, and it makes you pause. You hope for a fleeting moment that you mother somehow reverted back to normal and is cooking you breakfast like she used to do, but you know that's not what's happening. Kankri is probably home a day early. That's all. You got your hopes up for nothing.

You make your way down the hall, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. And, sure enough, when you enter the kitchen, your brother is waiting for you. He's already showered and dressed by the looks of things, and he's humming softly to himself while he cooks, his back to you. He's wearing an apron, but you don't need to see the front to know what it says. It's a joke gift that you got him for his seventeenth birthday. It's pink and frilly, and it says "KISS THE COOK" in big red letters. He, for some reason, absolutely loved it and kept it. You hate that thing. You will never understand how you are related to someone like Kankri.

The brother in question finishes his batch of pancakes, moving them from the pan to the big plate he has already stacked high with the fluffy disks. Still humming, he turns to set the plate on the table, and makes eye contact with you. He jumps a bit, swallowing what is no doubt a girly scream at your sudden appearance. "Karkat!" He shouts, trying to get his heartrate to go back down. "What are you doing awake so early? I was about to come get you."

You shrug, walking over and taking the plate of pancakes from his hand. "Even night people need food, Kankri." You tell him, tearing off a bit of one of the pancakes and popping it into your mouth.

You hate to admit it - you really hate to admit it - but Kankri is an excellent cook. You suppose that's because neither your mom nor your dad could cook for shit, so from a young age, he took it upon himself to keep you fed. And, according to him, it's a very relaxing process. You wouldn't know. The one time you tried to seriously cook something, you set the pan on fire. That was enough to tell you that you inherited your cooking skills from your parents. Which, of course, means that you have no cooking skills. At all.

Kankri presses his lips together in a thin line, unhappy with your lack of table manners, but says nothing. Which is unusual. Normally, it's a trial to get him to stop talking, but he doesn't seem to have much to say. Not that you're complaining.

Sighing a little, Kankri turns around and finishes preparing breakfast. He sets the plate of bacon and eggs down on the table, turns the stove off, and sets a lot of small, miscellaneous cooking supplies in the sink. You watch him with only minimal interest, munching on his pancakes while you do. God, you missed Kankri's cooking. Nothing even comes close to it for you.

"So," Kankri begins, clearing his throat awkwardly while he takes the seat across from you. "is mom coming to join us?" He asks innocently.

You tense for the briefest moment, then let it slide off your shoulders, taking a bite of your pancakes to disguise your reaction. "Uh, no." You shake your head. "She likes to be alone. It's probably better than being around people who look so much like… him…"

Kankri's mouth forms a small "o" and he looks down, frowning at his plate. "I see." He says slowly. "That's… fine. Anyway, Karkat, how is school? Have you made any friends?" Kankri continues, changing the conversation abruptly.

Admittedly, you weren't expecting him to dwell on the topic of your mother for long. Kankri tends to avoid "triggering" topics with all the grace of a stampede of elephants and the subtleness of a clown at a business meeting. However, you weren't expecting him to choose you as the topic for the subject change. It's not that Kankri doesn't care about you, it's just that he's normally as bad at this sort of thing as you are. You don't remember the last time he asked something like that.

"Uh… school is fine." You say after a tense pause, setting your fork down to give Kankri an odd look. "And, yeah, I have friends. But more importantly, why do you even care?"

Kankri turns an embarrassed shade of red, tugging on the sleeve of his sweater nervously. "I don't think that it's wrong for one to care about his little brother's social well being." He says finally. "And, yes, I am aware that I've never taken a serious interest in the topic before, and I would like to sincerely apologize to you, Karkat. I understand that not having the support of family members for even everyday mediocre things can be stressful and challenging. I've been away for a while, and I don't visit as much as I should. I'm going to try my best to remedy this. Because I really have changed, Karkat, I promise. College has taught me a lot of things and, surprisingly, the most useful ones had nothing to do with my academic studies." He looks like he wants to continue, but then he suddenly cuts himself off, refocusing on you after his little rant. "My bad. I got off track, didn't I?"

You nod. "Yep." You confirm, popping the "p" as you stab your fork into your pancakes. Suddenly, you aren't hungry. You don't really understand what Kankri means when he says that he's "changed" but you guess that you're going to find out. He's going to be staying for a week, which gives you plenty of time. Frankly, you're just surprised that he even had the ability to realize in the first place that his old behavior wasn't good. You thought that Kankri was denser than that. But you guess that his classes must just be that impressive. It is Harvard, after all. But, whatever. You can give Kankri a chance. At the worst, it wouldn't be the first time someone let you down. And at the best, you might actually have a tolerable brother. So you have nothing to lose.

He forces a little smile, taking your plate away before you can completely decimate your breakfast. "So, Karkat, seeing as how it's the human Christmas season, I thought that we could have a day out together to go shopping for the event." Kankri suggests brightly, scraping the remains of your meal into the garbage disposal. You notice that he didn't really eat much, but Kankri has always been a light eater. He has a low metabolism, so he doesn't really feel the need to eat most of the time. Usually, he only eats because he knows that he needs nutrition.

You hum a bit, thinking about his offer. "That's… actually a surprisingly nice idea." You say finally. Of course, there are other things you'd rather do on a Saturday. Like nothing, or anything that means you can stay inside and warm. But you and him used to love doing little things together as kids, so… why not? "Sure." You sigh after a second. "I'll go get showered and change."

"Really?" Kankri blinks, surprised, then smiles. "Alright then. I'll be out here when you're done." He says, waving you away. "This house is a mess, Karkat. It's incredibly dusty. I'll have to spend tomorrow deep cleaning it." His voice quickly trails off, until Kankri is muttering more to himself than you. He probably doesn't even realize that you're still in the room. Your brother is really good at zoning out once he gets hooked on an idea or plan. It's nice most of the time. The more silent, the better.

You push out of your seat, giving a sarcastic wave to the back of his head before you turn and head down the hall. You stop at your room - quickly grabbing the first clean outfit you see - and continue on your way. It's easier to just change in the bathroom, you think. Some people get dressed in their room, but you don't do it that way. It's a lot less efficient in your opinion.

Anyway, while you were thinking about the ways you could get dressed after a shower, you arrived at the bathroom. Hooray, you guess. Whatever. At least now you can shower.

You set your clothes down on the side of the sink and turn on the shower. Your shower also doubles as a tub, which is something you actually really like. It certainly saves on space, at least.

You take your clothes off while waiting for the water to heat up, and let them drop uncaringly to the floor. You'll pick them up later. Probably. If you don't, Kankri will. He can be a little… obsessive about the cleanliness of his living space.

Once the shower is just slightly hotter than scalding, you decide that the temperature is just perfect and step in. The water burns your skin a little, giving it a red flush, and it's nice. Showers as a whole are just nice. You don't know how people ever survived without them.

Showers are also where you do the most thinking. You let the water run through your hair and down your shoulders and back, closing your eyes and letting your mind wander. And, unsurprisingly, the first thought you drift to is Dave. Him as a person, you mean. For once, your complicated relationship with him isn't at the direct front of your mind. You want to get to know Dave better. You don't know a lot about him, like his interests and family life. You just know the basics of his personality, and even then, something tells you that the Dave you think you know isn't the real him at all. If you're going to tell the guy you love him (scratch that, you'll never tell him) then you should at least know the real him. Who Dave becomes when he's alone. It's worth a shot, at least.

Your mind made up, you turn the shower off and step out. Your hands seem to do the work when your mind wanders, because when you get out, you feel significantly cleaner. You really need to stop zoning out. Missing large chunks of your shower probably isn't a good thing. At all. But more on that later. You know - when you care.

You do your best to dry off your hair and pull on your clothes, pushing open the door. You like watching the steam roll out and into the colder hallway, but your shower today was uncharacteristically brief, so no such thing occurs. Damn.

"Kankri?" You call, making your way down the hall. "Kankri, are you still here?" You wouldn't be surprised if he was gone. If you were hallucinating or dreaming him. The Kankri who made you breakfast seems like a good omen, and the Kankri you grew up with was never a good omen. You don't trust it.

There's footsteps on the stairs, and Kankri quickly makes his way into the kitchen, smiling brightly. "Karkat. Sorry about that - I took the spare time to dust the railing. And the stairs. I've decided a deep clean is definitely in order for tomorrow. This place has fallen into disrepair without me here to help." He says, seeming personally offended as he tosses three dust-covered sheets into the trash.

You raise an eyebrow, nodding a bit. "Uh huh… yeah. You know, I think you're overreacting." It's not like anyone in the house as asthma. Well, your dad did, which is why Kankri cleans so much, but you don't want to dwell on that.

Kankri simply shrugs, heading towards the front room. You trail behind him, if only because the front room has the most windows to potentially escape through. "Perhaps, Karkat, but nonetheless, I'm purchasing some new cleaning rags while we're out today, it will be like my gift to me. I should also acquire something for Porrim while I'm in town. I didn't mention to her that I was visiting, so she should be upset and pleasantly surprised at the same time." He sighs, pulling on his shoes. "That should be fun to deal with. How is she by the way, Karkat?"

You've decided to start counting every time Kankri is considerate about someone other than himself. So far, it's two. You think that's his all-time high score. "Porrim is fine." You say, pausing before adding, "Her boutique is doing well. I heard that she had to expand it to fit enough clothes to satisfy all her customers."

You only know this because Kanaya told you. Porrim taught her younger sister almost everything she knows about clothes, which you find rather endearing. You wonder how Porrim has been holding up recently. You haven't checked in with her in a while. She had a pale crush on your brother the size of Canada back when they would talk online - long before your family moved here. Him moving her only to go to the other side of the country to attend college really got to her. You still have no idea what she saw in him, but you suppose that there's no accounting for taste.

Kankri smiles a little at this, standing back up straight. "That's good to hear - she was always so passionate about fashion. I'm glad that she got the chance to do something with that dream." You remain wary of this alien look alike of your brother as you put on your own shoes. Luckily, he keeps talking, which makes you a little less suspicious, though not at all happy. "Not many people get that opportunity, you know. Porrim was always more rebellious than me, and I didn't think that she had the work ethic to follow through with anything, actually, but I guess I'll have to apologize to her. Do you know if she needs any materials, Karkat? That could be a good gift. Though, Porrim has never been one for practical applications. Maybe a pair of earrings? I don't know how to shop for girls, Karkat. It's one of the downsides to dating. Does being pale for someone count as dating? I'm not certain about that, either. But even if it isn't, she still deserves something nice. Do you-?"

Okay, you've officially had enough of his shit. "Kankri!" You interrupt, glaring at him. You have your coat on, your credit card tucked into your pocket, and one foot already out the door, yet he's still talking. "Just get her some fucking perfume or something. It doesn't matter! She'll just be happy to see you. Now are we going shopping, or would you rather stay here and rant about the fine art of gift buying all day?"

He chuckles nervously, nodding a little. "Of course. You're right, Karkat. I'm overthinking this. I'll just- see what they have." He says, shrugging on his coat and hurrying after you. Now, he's silent.

Thank God.

* * *

Two hours later, and Kankri had finally - finally - settled on a gift for Porrim. He remembered that she loved doing makeup almost as much as she loved designing, so he purchased the most impressive looking makeup kit in the store. You're not entirely sure if that's how girls judge which one they want to buy, but after listening to him mutter about it for so long, you would've done anything to get out of that store. The over excessive and stereotypical amounts of pink made you want to dig your eyes out with a dull spoon. It wasn't fun.

You had also gotten something for Dave and something for Kanaya. Dave because he's your boyfriend, and Kanaya because pale feelings are stupid and also because you owe her for helping out with your tux. You got her a nice dress - a relatively plain one, but it had a nice shape and design, and you figure that she'll have fun adjusting it to fit her standards. For Dave, you got him a camera. You're not sure if he was a nice one already, but in all honesty, you were just surprised to have stumbled across a film camera at all. You think that he'll appreciate the thought.

Kankri also stopped to purchase a small book of sheet music. For the guitar, if you are to believe the cover. When you asked why, he just told you that it was for a friend he made during his classes. His answer was oddly brief, and you didn't believe him, but you didn't care enough to push, and the two of you continued on the day as normal.

Actually, you were in a pretty okay mood when you and Kankri left the mall. Not the best mood, of course, but while you weren't 'happy' per se, you also weren't upset or angry or sad. It was nice.

Emphasis on "were". Meaning "used to be". As in "in the past".

You come to a sudden stop, your eyes widening a fraction of an inch. Dave stares back at you, looking about as surprised as he can be with those shades on. You guess that he came Christmas shopping too, and it's just your luck that, out of everyone in this damn city, Dave is who you run into. Great.

You go to say something to break the tension (maybe even convince Kankri that your brain didn't just crash and burn) but before you can, a small squeal attracts your attention.

A girl who looks like an older and pinker version of Rose smiles widely, coming up and taking your face in her hands. You're too offended to even tell her that personal space is, in fact, a thing. A thing that you value greatly. "Dave, is this Karkat?" She asks, looking over her shoulder to stare at your equally dumbfounded boyfriend.

"Yeah, but Roxy-" He goes to say, but she's already moved on.

"He's even cuter in person!" She says, looking you up and down approvingly before taking a step back. "God, Dave, are you sure he's your boyfriend?" The girl - Roxy - asks, scrutinizing you in a way that makes you highly uncomfortable. And Kankri is still just standing there. Never before have you wanted him to cut in as much as you do right now. "I think you're lying. He's clearly out of your league."

A boy that looks way too much like Dave to be natural steps forward, putting a hand on Roxy's shoulder and easing her out of your personal space. You decide that you like this Not-Dave guy. He clearly knows what's important in life. Behind them, you see Dave holding his head in his hands, and Rose, looking like she's trying really hard not to laugh. You're glad that someone thinks this is hilarious, because you're failing to see the humor in all of this.

"Rox," The Dave look alike sighs, turning you attacker to face himself. "God, there's no need to terrify the kid. You know how long Dave's been crushing on him." He says in a lecturing tone. Roxy sighs, but nods begrudgingly, frowning.

Satisfied, the blonde boy steps up to you, holding his hand out politely. It appears as though he's the only one with manners, and you shake his hand, relieved. "I'm Dirk." He introduces himself, dropping your hand. "And I seriously doubt that Dave has ever mentioned us, but I'm his older brother, and Roxy over here is his older sister." He gestures at her, and she waves a little. "It's nice to finally meet you. Dave talks about you all the time, you know." He smirks knowingly, and that's when your boyfriend seems to come back to the real world.

"Alright, that's enough of that!" He pushes Dirk away from you and towards the doors, an angry blush on his face. "You've met him, so now you can stop hounding me about it and we can get this stupid shopping trip over with."

Dirk's expression hasn't changed. In fact, getting a rise out of his brother seems to have made him even more smug. "Alright, geez. You don't want your siblings cramping your style. I get it. No need to resort to violence, Dave."

While Dave attempts and fails to one up his brother in a heated argument, your attention turns to Roxy. She's staring at you again, only now she looks oddly serious. She steps towards you, and you tense. "For real though," She sighs, putting a hand on you shoulder, "I know he doesn't act like it, but I've never seen Dave this happy. Whatever you're doing, keep it up, okay?" She smiles a little, kissing your cheek briefly. "And if you want, you can come up to our house after Christmas. Dave won't want you to, but I'll make sure you're let in, if you want. I can even pick you up myself."

You nod a little, feeling slightly dazed and more than a little flushed. "Yeah." You say slowly. "Sure. That'd be… great."

Roxy smiles, seemingly satisfied, and turns to Dave. "Hey." She says, interrupting his conversation with Dirk. "You're holding us up." She grabs her little brother by the ear, dragging him back over to you. Dave looks incredibly unhappy, and says as much, letting out a string of curses until Roxy deposits him in front of you. "Now say goodbye. I got shit to buy, Dave. I've gotta get something for like fifty fucking people, so hurry it up. Plant one on your BF and let's go."

Dave clenches his jaw, glaring at her through his shades. Once he turns to you though, his expression softens. "Sorry about them." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You know how siblings can be, right?"

You shoot a glance at Kankri. "No."

"They're awful." Dave cups your cheek, kissing you softly and using his hand to hide it from his siblings. You're grateful. Kankri is being way too quiet about this, and you're not looking forward to talking about your relationship status with him once you get home.

The kiss ends too soon for your liking, and Dave smiles down at you before stepping back. You find that you had been leaning into his touch, and quickly right yourself, your face turning a light shade of red in embarrassment. "See you later." Dave tells you, ruffling your hair as he walks by. Rose follows, winking at you, and your blush darkens. If Roxy or Dirk do something when they walk by you, you don't notice, too busy being enamored with the ground. Was the ground always this enchanting? You don't think so.

"Well." Kankri clears his throat once they've disappeared inside, giving a little tug on your arm to signal you to start walking. "That was… interesting. Are they your friends? They seem nice."

You stare at Kankri, bug-eyed, as you follow him to the car. He's got to be joking. Right? You know your brother is dense, but this is fucking ridiculous. He saw you kiss Dave. He heard the human being referred to as your boyfriend several times. And yet he has nothing to say about it? Nothing. Not a thing. What exactly went on at that college of his?

The first half of the car ride is silent. And for the first time in your life, you find yourself praying that Kankri will just talk already. But no such luck. He keeps his eyes perfectly trained on the road in front of him. Instead of being tense, like you are, he seems completely at ease, tapping his finger on the steering wheel to the beat of some generic pop song that's flooding through the speakers.

After a song or two of this – you glancing at him angrily and him not noticing – Kankri sighs and leans over, turning off the radio. "So," He begins, shooting a glance at you out of the corner of his eye, "you have a boyfriend now."

You nod a little, for once grateful that Kankri is so blunt. "Yeah." You want to leave it at that, but some foolish part of your brain tells you that it's a good idea to keep talking. "I figured you'd be mad, what with your rants about celibacy and shit like that."

Kankri bites his lip nervously, staring intently at the road. "Yeah. Uh, Karkat, about that…"

This gets your attention, and you sit up straight, giving him a curious and concerned look. "Kankri? You didn't… break your vow, did you…?" You can't imagine that happening. His vow of celibacy is incredible important to Kankri, for reasons you don't understand. It's ridiculous to think that he would break it, but when he doesn't immediately say no, your suspicious rise. "Kankri…?"

"His name is Cronus." Your brother sighs finally, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. "It… was unexpected, to say the least, taking into consideration that we didn't get along at all, not at first, at least." You realize that Kankri is about to start monologuing, but for once, you don't care. You want to hear this story. This Cronus guy must be incredible for Kankri to give up celibacy for. "Cronus was something of, well, an asshole, for lack of a better term. He wasn't pleasant to be around, he was a flirt with no sense of personal space, and had a sense of entitlement about himself, like he deserved something for being a quote-unquote 'nice guy'." Kankri crinkles his nose in disgust, but continues. "He's a violet-blood as well, so his family is very wealthy, which is how he was able to attend the college at all. I don't mean to say that he's stupid, of course. His grades in high school just weren't impressive. Average, mostly Bs. We had several classes together though, and he would often flirt with me. I, of course, made it very clear that I wasn't interested, and he at least stopped trying to be physical - putting an arm around my waist or shoulder, leaning in close, holding my hand, and things like that - though the flirting persisted. Eventually, I got to know him, and I ignored his advances, beginning to regard them as just part of his personality, and eventually, he stopped flirting. It was nice for a while - we had both found someone who would listen. But after, oh, a year of being friends with him, I noticed that Cronus had grown quieter - more thoughtful. He had stopped flirting with other people, he didn't hang out with his old friends anymore, and overall, he just seemed…" Kankri trails off for a moment, searching for the right words. "...broken. And then one day, he told me that he loved me, to which I replied by politely reminding him that I was celibate, only for him to reply with, "I know" and then walk away. This happened every day for almost three months. He never pressured me at all about it though, he would simply tell me everyday to make sure that I knew. But it got me thinking. I was now unsure about my celibacy, and my feelings for Cronus. Porrim was also a person I considered during this time, as her pale crush on me wasn't exactly subtle, and I had been suppressing my crush on her for years. My celibacy no longer seemed important, but for a while still, I was too nervous to do anything about it. So it took me a while to work up the courage, but finally, when Cronus told me that he loved me, I told him that I loved him, too." Kankri takes a deep breath, glancing at you anxiously. "And we've been dating for a year and a half."

You blink. "Holy fuck, Kankri."

At this, he laughs, which is odd since he's pretty against cursing. You cursing, at least. It's okay when he does it, apparently. "Yes, well," Kankri smiles a little, "it's not perfect, he still has flaws, and I do too, but we're happy. And I want you to be happy too, Karkat, so if this boyfriend of yours makes you happy, you should let him know. Trust me on this, because I found out through personal experience that lying to others and especially yourself about how you feel towards someone is never good. Holding anything in isn't healthy, and I get the feeling that you haven't told - Dave is his name, right? - that you haven't told him how you really feel about him. And don't try to tell me that there's nothing there, because I've known you for your entire life, and I can tell when you're happy. Did you know that you tend to light up around him? Don't be embarrassed - he's the same. And I know I'm rambling, but I want you to understand what I'm getting at. Do you understand, Karkat?" He gives you a sideways glance, turning and pulling into your neighborhood.

You hesitate, then nod, looking out the window. "Yeah. I think I do." You need to tell Dave that he won the game. Your long time attraction towards him and his sudden acquirement of charm has won you over. Roxy invited you to visit their house after Christmas, right? You can tell him there. You can manage to hold it in a little longer.

And if not, well… holding your feelings in hasn't killed you yet.

* * *

 **A/N: If it helps, I do write a page every day. But with my chapters, that means that every chapter takes around 7-10 days, so...**


	6. You Suck At Love

**A/N: I'm sorry for my procrastination. And also for a mediocre chapter. But on the plus side, Dave gets to be a fucking sap.**

 **(Also my proof-reader is busy, so sorry again for any spelling/grammar mistakes.)**

* * *

Christmas is rather uneventful. You and Kankri don't usually do the sentimental stuff, and without your mom or dad there to get everything in order, you and he didn't do much of anything, actually. He made breakfast again, and the atmosphere was surprisingly nice. You found that the conversation flowed a lot easier now that some of the heavier things were out in the open. You two watched a few movies together as well, and it was pretty fun. You missed watching movies with Kankri. He's the only person you know who will tolerate your romcoms. You think you even saw him tearing up during one of them, but it was dark in the room, so you aren't completely sure.

The real events all took place after Christmas. Namely, the day after.

True to Roxy's word, you received a very brief text from Dave explaining that he would be picking you up in an hour. You don't really need that much time to get ready, but considering that you spend half of that hour panicking, you're grateful. Your shower was quick and getting dressed was even quicker, leaving you with a good twenty minutes to pace impatiently.

Luckily, Kankri is out. He had gone to give Porrim her Christmas/apology gift, but that was an hour ago, so you suppose that she was keeping him in her sights. Maybe they're having a disgustingly pale feelings jam. The thought sickens you. You had given Kanaya your gift the other day, and you had left as soon as possible. Whether she hated or loved your gift, you didn't want to be there to see her open it. You're not very good at direct confrontation of feelings, which is why your plan for today will be especially challenging.

Considering that you're going over to Dave's house, a tour will probably be in order. It shouldn't take very long, but you and him will most likely be alone during this time. At which point, you will profess your love to him in the most awkward attempt at seduction that has ever graced the Earth. It will most likely end with him refusing your feelings outright, but you have accepted that. After all, it's a game. You would probably respond in the same way if you were him. But you're not Dave, and you figure - why not? You know that he doesn't feel the same way. You always did have a hard time believing even the most convincing lies.

The sound of a loud motor attracts your attention and, frowning, you push back the curtains to peer outside. The motor stopped outside your house, but that can't be Dave, right?

You are, of course, wrong.

Dave is waiting outside for you, one leg on the ground as he straddles his motorcycle, keeping him steady. Seeing that you're watching, he waves, gesturing for you to come outside. You grab your coat, wrapping it tightly around your small frame before hurrying out.

You know absolutely jackshit about motorcycles as well as cars, but you do know that his ride definitely wasn't cheap, and that it's more than a little impressive. Or it would be if it wasn't below 30° and if vehicles were something that impressed you.

"A motorcycle?" You ask, one eyebrow raised as you come to a stop in front of him. "In this weather? I don't think that was the smartest decision, Dave." And that's putting it mildly.

Shrugging, your moronic boyfriend in question simply holds out a helmet. He isn't wearing one himself, but that doesn't surprise you. It would probably ruin his perfect hair. Not that you think his hair is perfect or anything. "Didn't have a choice. Dirk tore up the engine on the car to upgrade it, and until he fixes it and I get my license, this is all I got." He nods at the back. "Don't worry. The cold is pretty easy to ignore. And I'm a great driver. No accidents at all."

You take the helmet warily, turning it around in your hands before putting it on. It's a little big on you, but it fits. "Why don't you ever pick me up for school with this thing?" You question, taking in the ease at which he holds himself on the contraption.

To this, Dave smiles. "Because why would I? _Walking_ with you takes so much longer, and any extra time I can get with my boyfriend is an opportunity that I'm not passing up." His smile is so genuine that it catches you off guard. So do his words. Is that… really why he walks with you everyday? You blush darkly, hoping that the helmet hides most of it.

"You're not cool at all, Dave. You're a fucking dork." You mutter, sliding onto the seat behind Dave and wrapping your arms around his stomach. You press your cheek against his back as best you can with the helmet in the way, closing your eyes and trying to pretend that you're anywhere else. Anywhere else would probably be safer than a bike going at 60 miles an hour.

He laughs, the sound reverberating through his chest as he restarts the engine. The bike shakes some, and you tense up. "Maybe, Karkat, but who's the one dating a dork?" He jokes, then suddenly slams on the gas, tearing his way down the street.

You let out a small, unmanly squeak, clinging to him tightly. Dave's laughter echoes in your ears and through your body. You feel it more than hear it, as the motor and the wind rushing by your ears makes it hard to hear much else.

You think that he calls you cute, so you respond by hitting him in the back before going back to gripping his jacket. You wonder how far away his house is. He's never mentioned it before, but you always assumed that it was pretty close if he walked to your house to go with you to school.

Apparently, the distance of his house isn't quite as short as you thought it was. You start counting in your head, and you've reached 1,000 more than once by the time he finally begins to slow down. You look up, opening your eyes for the first time during this ride, and are a little surprised. Dave lives in the rich neighborhood by the looks of things. Meaning - the part of town with all of the larger-than-life homes and interiors that you're afraid to even look out, lest your unworthiness damage them. Or maybe he's just driving through. There is another neighborhood just outside of this one. It's less impressive, but still pretty neat looking.

But that idea is quickly dashed when Dave pulls up to a house that is easily twice as big as yours. He presses a button on his handlebars (is that what they're called on motorcycles?), and the garage door slips open quietly. Looking around the area, you can quickly see that Dave's story from earlier was true. The car in the garage (which is really impressive looking) has had it's hood removed. It's engine and other key components is spread out across the ground, and you can safely say that you have no idea what Dirk is trying to accomplish. You don't recognize any of the parts. Your respect for Dave's brother skyrockets just a tad.

Dave shuts off the engine, putting down his kickstand and swinging over the seat and landing on his feet. "Need any help?" He asks, offering you his hand.

You roll your eyes. "Please, Dave. I can handle something as simple as dismounting from this metal death trap." That said, it still takes you twice as long as him to actually do that, and you are far less graceful.

"So," you clear your throat, and he bites back a laugh, "this is… your house?" You leave open room for correction. On top of everything else, you would absolutely love if Dave was actually poor. It would be one more flaw to add to a very short list. Damn him and his perfection.

He laughs awkwardly, looking away. "Uh, yeah… See, my parents aren't home because they're in Hollywood. They're movie producers. My dad is the co-founder of SBaHJ Studios, and my mom is a big-shot actress. So we're… sorta filthy rich. Surprise?"

You stare at him for a moment, your face blank. How are you supposed to respond in this situation? Your boyfriend is fucking rich. As in loaded. As in he has a much higher income than you will ever have. Meaning that he can do better than this small town. And better than you.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "You know what?" You say finally. "I'm not even surprised." This doesn't make you love him any more or any less, as having money certainly isn't a crime. It's bad for you, though. You have his Christmas gift in the giant pockets of your jacket. If you had known that he was loaded, you would have put more thought and effort into it. Dave probably has a camera much nicer than the one you got him. What are you supposed to buy the kid who has everything? "At this point, you suddenly revealing yourself as the actually reincarnation of Jesus Christ himself would not surprise me."

This earns a laugh from Dave, and he ruffles your hair with a grin. "Unfortunately, I'm just human. Lucky as fuck though, if that counts. Anyway, we should probably head into the house. Roxy isn't known for her patience."

You nod, holding in a sigh as you follow him inside. So his siblings are home. That's not good. You like them well enough, sure, but you really want some alone time with Dave. You get the feeling that telling them this would be met with more teasing than you've ever had in your life. Maybe you'll just get lucky or maybe Rose will suddenly become a mind reader, if she isn't already. It honestly wouldn't surprise you.

You step inside, and are immediately unimpressed. You're not sure what you were expecting, but the garage is adjacent to the laundry room, and that's what you're greeted with. The machines aren't running, but you can see baskets of clothes poised atop of them, waiting to be folded. You give Dave an odd look, and he shrugs, taking your hand and leading you through the door on the other side of the room. "They'll get folded and put away pretty soon." He says as a way of explaining it. "It's Roxy's turn to do laundry, I think. And I'm on minor cleaning, Dirk is cooking, and Rose gets today off. Tomorrow we'll switch."

You like Dave's way of doing chores. It sounds pretty fair, you think. And it's certainly better than hiring someone to do it for you which, you admit, was your first thought when you saw the clothes.

The next room is much more impressive. It's the living room, and the TV alone is big enough to make you pause. It's not massive enough to take up the whole wall or anything (you get the feeling that the Strider-Lalonde family is rather down to Earth), but it's still bigger than anything you've ever seen outside of supermarkets. It's mounted to the wall, and across from it is a white, circular sofa that looks like it can fit eight people. More likely, it can fit for siblings all vying to take up the most space and kick the others off. That sounds like something they would do.

Dirk is poised on this sofa, sitting cross-legged and staring intently at the TV screen. He has an XBox controller in his hands, and by the looks of things, he's mining out a cave in Minecraft. You don't understand _why_ someone as smart as him would play a game like that so seriously, but you don't think you'll ever understand anything Dave's family does.

"Hey bro, we're-" Dave goes to say, only to be cut off by Dirk rapidly shushing him.

"Quiet!" He hisses, not even bothering to look away from the screen to glare at his brother. "It's night time right now, and I'm playing on hard mode. Do you have any idea how many _fucking_ creepers I've run into already? This is about stealth, Dave. So can it, and go make out with your boyfriend in front of someone who cares."

Dave looks like he's going to object for a moment, but then he glances at you, back at Dirk, then to you again before he simply sighs and tugs you away. "Fucking nerd…" he mutters. Behind you, an explosion sounds on screen and Dirk lets out a series of curse words that make even you blush. You guess that one of those creepers found him.

The next room isn't really a new room. There's no wall separating the living room (which you didn't even have the time to properly detail in your mind) and the dining room. They're merely separated by the floor, which is carpet in the living room, and tiled in the dining room. There's also no wall separating this new room from the kitchen. Instead, there's a sort of island counter, which Rose is leaning against, smirking at you. You get the feeling that she would make a great therapist. Her very gaze makes you feel like she knows every little secret you've ever kept.

The fact that Dave is still holding your hand probably doesn't help this.

"Welcome home." She waves a little, making a shushing sound. "Just remember to keep quiet. Dirk acts incredibly out of character when he's losing."

A quick "fuck you" comes from the other room, followed by what sounds like a girly shriek. You wonder what mob caused _that_ reaction.

You think that "out of character" is an odd term to use over the dozens of other phrases Rose no doubt has memorized, but you choose not to question it. Dirk seems like he has a strong character, and from what little you know about him, you can already tell that screaming at a poorly rendered block game isn't very "in character" for him.

Dave leans against the counter, glancing around before turning his attention back to Rose. "So where's Roxy hiding? She's the one who made be bring Karkat over." He said with a scowl.

Of course, you know this already, but hearing Dave say it makes it so much more real. His words hurt. He doesn't want you over at his house - his most personal sanctum. Maybe he doesn't want you at all.  
Not seeming to notice the way your expression falls, Rose and Dave continue with their conversation. "She left not long after you." Rose says with a little shrug. "She's hanging out with her new quote-unquote "boy toy" as she so delicately put it. All I know is that, apparently, he's "mega hot" and drives a pretty nice car." She uses her fingers as air quotes when describing the guy, causing Dave to scowl.

"Great." He groans, and you can't be sure, but you think that he shoots a glance at you. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

Rose glances over at you, and then back at him, her lips pulling back into a barely-restrained frown. "I'd suggest that you show your boyfriend around the house instead of making him feel unwanted. But what would I know about dating? It's not like _I'm_ in a very healthy and happy relationship or anything." You can tell that Dave's behavior is upsetting her, and honestly, it's not all that surprising to you. You know that he didn't want to bring you over here, but you don't understand why.

Dave flinches at her sharp (but accurate) words, giving you a guilty look. "Karkat, that's not what I meant by-" He starts to explain himself, but you cut him off.

"Save it, Casanova." You scowl, crossing your arms. "Just give me a fucking tour of your completely unimpressive house, and we'll call it even." You narrow your eyes. "For now."

He nods, relieved, and takes your hand. "Alright, deal. We'll start upstairs and work our way down." Dave says, tugging you away from the kitchen and towards a set of stairs. He seems content to ignore Rose, and she seems content with his contentedness. They have an odd relationship. But it works, based on the look of things.

Your eyes can't help but wander as Dave takes you upstairs, and you hate to admit it, but you really are impressed. It's a bit of a small house, but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in presentation. The next room over (the room that houses the front door and the stairs) is rather empty. It has a glass coffee table in the middle with several paperback books scattered haphazardly across its surface. There's a bookshelf lining two of the walls, so you assume that this is a reading room. On the wall facing the outside, there's a large window with curtains tied off to the sides, a large sofa sitting in front of that. It's a room that you wouldn't mind exploring further, but Dave is leading you up the stairs before you can make your desires clear. You'll have to visit again sometime - that library has to have something in the romance genre, right?

"Alright." Dave says, stopping at the top of the stairs. "You can go through the rooms if you want. Except that one." He points at the rather plain looking door at the end of the hallway. "That's mom and dad's room. And they're not home, so we tend to keep out so that they can come home to it being exactly how they left it."

You nod, heading the opposite direction down the hall. The carpet beneath you is red, which you suppose was an ironic choice by Dave's dad. Considering what he does for a living and all. You push open the first door and, of course, are greeted by the bathroom. It figures that you'd end up choosing the most boring room to start out with. Typical.

"So…" You begin, closing the door on the surprisingly neat room and moving on down the hall. "How did I never figure out before that you're rich enough to buy and sell this lousy town?" You ask, opening the next door. It's a broom closet, so you close it and decide to try again. Third time's the charm or some other bullshit, right?

Dave just shrugged. "This town isn't that bad, Karkat. And I'm not that rich." He protested. You can tell that he's full of shit, and so can he. You don't know why he bothers to try and pull that stuff on you.

"That doesn't answer my question." You open the third door, and this room actually has some things in it. Based on the pink, velvety theme though, you're willing to be that this isn't Dave's room.

He falls silent, still trailing behind you as you look uncaringly through his house. You're patient though, acting as if nothing is wrong. "If I had wanted you to know, then you would've known. I didn't want my friendships and popularity at school to based on something as trivial as money." He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the thought. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, anyway. I was mostly raised by Dirk and Roxy. Mom and dad try, but most of the time, they just _can't_ be there. Their jobs are so demanding." He explained as your quickly check the fourth and fifth rooms. There's only one left now, and it's most likely Dave's, unless his is on a different floor. But that can wait for a moment.

You frown, turning to look up at him directly. "Shit. That must be hard to deal with." You say empathetically. You're not going to say "I'm sorry" to him. He's probably heard that more times than he can count in his lifetime. You have too. When your dad died, it was always "I'm so sorry for you loss" or "I can't imagine how that feels" when all you _really_ wanted was a hug. For someone to hold you and pet your hair and lie to you, telling you that it's going to be alright.

You want to hug Dave, do _something_ to reassure him that you care, but you don't know how to. You get the feeling that doing so would make this more awkward that it already is. Dave just isn't an openly emotional guy, and you're going to have to respect that.

Your decision to not hug him seems to bring Dave some relief, and he rewards you with a half-smile. "Yeah. But I manage. It just makes me appreciate the little time we get together even more."

You turn a little red at this, falling silent. God, Dave can be such a sap. And you love it. Not that he needs to know that. To cover your slip up, you turn and open his door. At least, it better be his because it's the last one in this hallway.

This one - you realize instantly - is Dave's. Whereas his sibling's rooms were incredible personalized - walls painted their favorite colors, clothes scattered everywhere, and a homey feeling that made their rooms uniquely _them_ \- Dave's room is… not that.

It feels more like a temporary arrangement than his actual room. The walls are blank, and nothing is decorating them besides a window on the far wall and a cork board hanging above his bed. Roxy's walls had been practically covered in posters for movies, bands, books, and everything in between. So much so on one wall that you honestly couldn't see the pink paint beneath them. Everything is in order - nothing was on the floor or scattered haphazardly. His dresser was pushed against one wall, undoubtedly filled with clothes. He had an impressive looking film camera sitting on top of it, and next to it was two trophies for what looked like karate.

"This is your room?" You ask in disbelief, stepping inside to get a better look. His bed is queen sized, and the sheets covering it are red. It looks like a water bed too, but you resist the urge to jump onto it and get comfortable. He has a nightstand next to that, and on it rests a small stack of books with varying degrees of completion as well as what looks like an extra pair of shades. You guess that he sometimes breaks or loses his current pair. It's nice to know that Dave is prepared.

He nods in reply, stepping in behind you and shutting the door. "Yeah. Home sweet home for almost six years." Dave confirms. You don't believe that he's lived here for six years. His room looks like he moved in just the other day and is ready to leave at anytime.

You run a hand along the turntables set up along the far wall, curious but hesitant to actually touch the set up. It looks pretty expensive and complicated. Dave has it hooked up to his laptop, and though the screen in black, you can already imagine the series of patterns and sound waves and options he has for his music. You don't understand the dials or the slides or the buttons, but maybe you don't need to. You just need to accept that this is something he's passionate about. And - if the dance holds any weight - he's pretty good at it, too.

You turn to his bed next, climbing on it and crawling across to get a good look at his cork board. The bed quivers beneath your weight, but you've spent enough hours as a child refusing to leave the mattress store to navigate a waterbed. Even if the added movement as he follows you throws you off.

The cork board is - hands down - the more personal part of his room. It has pictures all over it, in a sort of collage that you can't look away from. Some are in black and white, and of nothing in particular. Like a bird resting on a window sill, or just a shot of a tree. You're no artist, but you can tell that Dave is skilled, if he took these photos. No ameture could have taken them, that's for sure. Other pictures are in color, and obviously digital. There's pictures of his with Rose, and Dirk, and Roxy. There's a picture of him embracing a woman who looks too much like Roxy to be natural. And there's a shot of a man and a woman holding hands and looking so sickly in love that you have to look away. It's clearly an intimate moment between the two, and you feel like you're somehow ruining it by staring.

And there, towards the middle, is a shot of you and Dave on prom night. It's a picture that you didn't realize Rose had taken. He has his arm around your waist, and he's pretending to be leaning in for a kiss as you push him away with a look of distaste. Why he kept this one - out of all of the must better photos - you may never know.

You touch the image gently, looking over at Dave with a puzzled expression. "You put a picture of us?" Your voice comes out far more insecure than you meant it to, but it's too late to take it back now.

Dave smiles sheepishly, nodding a little. "Well… yeah. These are all pictures of things that are important to me. So of course you'd be on there."

He says this so casually and without thought - as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And as much as you hate it, it completely breaks your composure.

You cup Dave's face, pulling him down against you and into a messy kiss. He jerks in surprise, but quickly relaxes into your touch. You go slow, and he molds into your movements. His lips are soft in a way you never noticed before. When did your hands move to his hair? You don't remember. But it spills through your fingers like sand, and you grip him tighter, pulling yourself onto his lap.

His hands quickly find your hips, and then begin to explore lower. You gasp softly into his mouth, but make no move to pull away. Why would you? It feels so incredible. Everywhere he touches, you burn. And everywhere he's not is cold and eager for attention. His lips feel like they belong against yours, and they move so in sync that it scares you a little. Two people should not be so compatible, but you are. So you enjoy it.

Surprisingly him, you're the one to make the first push into something further. He's leaning against the wall now, nowhere to go even if he wanted to. Your hands grasp the bottom of his shirt, and when he doesn't try to stop you, you push it up. You've already seen him shirtless, so this time is less about admiring from a distance, and more about memorizing it. The roughness of his skin. How unnaturally warm he is compared to your own clammy, nervous touches. You trace the scars on his side - faded after so many years - and map him out in your head.

Usually, you're both fast and desperate, but not this time. You brush against every inch of skin slowly, taking care to feel him piece by piece. And Dave doesn't speed the kiss up or even try to escalate it at all. It's slow and passionate, and makes you want to go further at the same time that it makes you want to hold back.

When he finally pulls away, Dave's breathing is fast, and his chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your touch. Your own heart pounds in your ears, and the sound of rushing blood blocks out everything else. For a moment, you just stare. And he stares right back. You feel like he's piercing your walls with just that one glance. He's peeling away your layers, slowly, deliberately, and though it scares you - being so completely open to someone - you don't want him to stop.

When your hands grasp his shades, you expect him to push you away. To tell you that he doesn't want you to see him like that. And that he's not ready to be intimate.

But he doesn't.

Dave leans forward, silent and calculating as he waits. You never thought that pulling his shades off would be difficult, but it is. What are you supposed to expect? He obviously keeps his eyes covered for a reason. Or maybe he just wears them to be a tool and taking them off will make you feel even dumber than you did when he "asked you out."

You steady yourself, and lift them up. Slowly. Everything is slow. Even your breathing. Dave's seems to have stopped all together as he waits for you to ease the unbearable tension in the room.

"Dave." Rose's voice shatters the moment in an instant.

You jump back, his shirt falling back into place as you end up on the opposite side of the bed. You almost fall off completely in your haste to move away, but at the last second, he lurches forward and grabbed your wrist, holding you fast.

Dave groans, running a hand over his face in exasperation as he looks at his cockblock of a sister. "Really, Rose?" The unhappiness in his voice is clear. "God damn, I know you grew out of that magic faze when you were thirteen, but are you sure you don't still have that crystal ball lying around? Which you use to see when your brother is about to have something great happen, and then go out of your way to completely and utterly fuck him over every time without fail?"

This coaxes a smirk out of her, and Rose leans against the door frame, studying the two of you like she knows something that you don't. And knowing her, you wouldn't doubt it. "You've figured me out, Dave." She says sarcastically. "Truth be told, rather than do something productive and meaningful with my life, I spend my time hunched up in my room with all the lights off and stare into the swirling mist of my mythical crystal ball. And I wait for it to show me the one thing I yearn for - what I crave in the deepest, darkest pits of what I assume is supposed to be my heart. An opportunity to make my brother's sex life completely non-existent." The amount of sarcasm in her voice is actually impressive.

Scoffing, Dave stands up and crosses his arm unhappily. You notice that his hand leaves yours as he does so, which is odd because you didn't realize that he was holding your hand at all. You really need to start paying more attention. But your mind is still a little fuzzy from the kiss. So maybe "pay more attention" can be your New Year's resolution.

"So, did you cockblock me for a reason or do you just derive pleasure from ruining anything good that happens to me?" Dave asks shortly. He's clearly upset, but his tone is mostly teasing. That's good. You've never seen Dave truly angry, and something tells you that you don't want to, either.

"Of course not." Rose rolls her eyes. "Didn't I just explain myself? My entire life is dedicated to being your cockblock. Making out under the bleachers at school? I'll be there. Your wedding night? Waiting behind the curtains. You'll have to adopt if you ever want kids, Dave. I am _committed_." There's a pause as she considers something, and then Rose adds, "And Dirk asked me to get you. He got tired of avoiding various mobs, and he figured that now is as good a time as any to show you that _thing_ you wanted him to make down in the basement. He's finished."

Dave's whole demeanor instantly changes, and his displeased expression is replaced by a smile. "Holy fuck." He crosses the room, wrapping Rose in a brief hug before turning to you. "Karkat, c'mon. I bet you'll like this." And with the way he's smiling at you, there's no way for you to say no. Goddamn, why is he so adorable?

You follow him out the bedroom door, Rose giving you a smug look as you pass her that makes your skin crawl with unease. You just _know_ that she's hiding something from you. Maybe Dave was right about the crystal ball thing.

Evidently, this thing Dirk has much be pretty great, because Dave doesn't wait for you. Well, that's technically a lie. You see him lingering every few steps, waiting for you to catch up. He could just run off ahead, but you don't yet know the layout of his house. And Dave can be pretty considerate when he wants to be. Yet another reason you love-hate him.

Oh, wait.

You were supposed to tell him that, weren't you? That you love him. You had plenty of time up in his room, but you wasted it with kissing instead. You hate everything right now. Everything is absolutely awful. How are you supposed to tell Dave _now_? Someone always seems to interrupt at the most crucial moments in your relationship.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say that someone was doing this on purpose. To keep the tensions escalated or something. How would you know? You're not a writer.

Screaming profanities in your head, you suck it up and follow Dave, your expression not changing. Why show emotions and let him know how upset you are? That would be stupid. Emotions are stupid, and you can do without them until you get some alone time. Then you can be as emotional as you want.

The basement is - admittedly - impressive. It must be a hobby room of some kind, because they have everything down here. It's just one big room at first glance. When you look again, you notice a few doors leading off of it, but they're probably not important.

A lot of different things are scattered around the room, obviously to fuel the interests of the Strider-Lalonde party. You never did figure out the reasoning behind their last names, did you? Must not be important.

Regardless, the room has a lot of… interesting things in it. The first thing you notice is the wine rack built into the stairs. It looks old and the bottles are clearly dusty. You think you even see a few cobwebs. That must mean that someone in the family had a pretty big drinking problem that they kicked. Interesting. You wonder who it was. Maybe Rose? Or Hell, maybe it was even their parents. It doesn't matter.

There's a computer pushed up against the back corner, and it looks pretty complicated. There's wires going off of it, and they're plugged into machines that you couldn't name if your life depended on it. Next to it, there's a few books set on the desk. They look pretty worn, and you think that one of them says _Hacking For Dummies_ but you're not entirely sure. You also don't care enough to look closer.

One thing that you do understand is the violin. It's set down next to set of drums, which is a pretty big contrast. You don't even want to know how obnoxious _that_ can get. At least Dave has the decency to wear headphones when he's mixing music. At least, you hope he does. He had headphones plugged into his computer upstairs, but you can't be sure.

"Hey, love birds." Dirk waves you two over from where he's standing next to a bookshelf, and your study of his basement is put on hold. Neither Dave nor yourself object to the nickname, and you're not sure how to feel about that. At the very least, Dirk hasn't called you out on it yet.

Still grinning, Dave makes his way over to the bookshelf, you trailing behind him curiously. "So you finally finished it?" He asks, playfully punching Dirk in the arm.

Scoffing, the older boy smirks in that self-satisfied way that they all have mastered. "Don't give me that shit, Dave. I put the car on hold to do this for you, so you can just shove it up your ass for how all I care by this point."

You give Dave a sideways glance, then stare at the bookshelf for another moment before looking back to your boyfriend. "Dave."

He turns his head to look at you. "Yeah, babe?"

You scowl, turning red. "I told you not to call me that!" You shout, doing your best to look mad. The matching smirks on Dirk's and Dave's faces tell you that you're not doing it very well, though. "Anyway-" You quickly decide to change the subject. "What are we down here for? This is a bookshelf, Dave. A _bookshelf_. Couldn't you have assembled this yourself?" You gesture at the shelf for emphasis.

Dave laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, it's a funny story,actually." Oh, _this_ will be good. You can tell. "See, always thought that any rich person who doesn't have a bookshelf that swivels into another room is spending their money wrong."

It takes you a moment. "Oh, fuck me with a chainsaw. Dave, you _didn't_."

Laughing, Dirk rests his hand on one of the books. "Oh, but he did." He grins, pulling the book towards him and triggering a low whir that resonates from inside the wall.

You, naturally, take a step back.

And because this entire family is probably on drugs, Dirk's creation actually works. The bookshelf swivels smoothly, clearly well-thought out as it turns halfway, revealing it's side and creating two narrow doorways. Inside, the room is pitch-black, and you're not at all inclined to figure out what's on the other side.

Not that everything is ever up to you.

Almost immediately, Dave takes you by the hand and pulls you inside. Dirk doesn't follow for reasons unknown, and the door shuts with a dull thud behind you. You refuse to admit that this scares you. You're a very paranoid person. Any number of things could happen here in the dark, alone with Dave in the dark with your location not known by anyone outside of his family.

Thinking about things like that really isn't helping you, though. So you do your best to avoid thoughts of a horrible, torturous murder and just hold Dave's hand. He gives you a little reassuring squeeze - as if somehow sensing how unnerved you are - and moves a little to the left. You hear his clothes rustling in the dark, and then the room floods with dull, red light.

It's easy on your eyes, and it only takes you a moment to painlessly adjust. Maybe you should make all lights in your house red. It's a lot easier on your sensitive eyes.

You take the time to observe your surroundings - careful of anything that could be used as a murder weapon. There's a long counter lining one wall, and on it is a lot of trays, each filled with a liquid that you can't name. There's a few sets of equipment that you don't understand even the slightest bit, and a small stack of film rolls on the end of the counter. There's also an expensive looking camera sitting on it's own little table like it's Dave's most prized possession, and you know without asking that it's off limits. Just off the back wall, there's a washline hung up, but instead of clothes, it holds pictures. All in black and white, and all hung with the utmost care. And on the walls? The walls are covered with pictures just like the ones hanging.

You don't spend a lot of time looking, but you do look. You see pictures of cars, and empty streets. One of a seagull mid-flight, and one of people on the street who likely don't even realize that they had their picture taken. There's a shot of Dave's house, and the Hollywood sign, and everything from the Eiffel Tower to the Taj Mahal.

"Dave…" You breath softly, awed and more than a little impressed. "You took… all of these pictures?" It's mind-boggling. They're on every wall, and you feel overwhelmed. There's even a baby picture. It's like Dave's entire life could be summed up in this one room.

He nods, coming up to put a hand on your shoulder. "Yep." Dave confirms, watching you take it all in. "Even my very first one is up in here. Somewhere. Photography has always interested me. I don't remember a time when I wasn't snapping pictures of everything." He smiles a little to himself, lost in his memories. You're lost in his memories, too.

A family trip to Disney Land, Disney _World_ (because there's a difference), and a place that looks suspiciously like the Roman Colosseum. God, how did he travel so much and still attend school? Actually, now that you're thinking about it, you never do hear about him over the summer. He's not on the streets, and John and Jade don't mention him either. So that explains that. Kind of. You might as well get used to only have half-answers when it comes to your boyfriend.

Now that you're surrounded by photography, you are keenly aware of the camera pressed against your side. You're still wearing your jacket, which confuses you for a minute. It had completely slipped your mind. Almost like it didn't even exist for the majority of the time you were around Dave.

But you're remembering it now, so it's as good of a time as any to give him your shitty present. Good thing you kept the gift receipt - the camera he already has looks way more expensive than the one you have.

"Uh…" You dig through your pocket, pulling out the poorly-wrapped box and handing it to Dave. "Here. It's your, uh, late Christmas present." You say as he turns it over in his hands. He didn't get you a gift, but that's fine. The last thing you want is him spending money on you. And you're a sentimental sap, too. In your opinion, this day was gift enough.

Dave frowns, looking mildly uncomfortable as he holds his present. "Karkat, you didn't have to get me something. I didn't even-"

You cut him off, pressing your finger to his lips to shut him up. It works like a charm, and he falls silent, his breathing steady against your skin. "Shut up and open your fucking peresnt, Dave." You tell him quietly.

He doesn't move for a second, then he lets out a little sigh, and you draw away. "Fine." He says unhappily. "But I would like to state that - for the record - I'm against this." You don't reply, just cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. Dave seems to understand how little you value his input right now, and he begrudgingly unwraps his gift.

Bits of red wrapping paper fall to the ground, and you decide to focus on them rather than his face. You don't want to be watching when he is inevitably disappointed. The ground is better. The ground can't be disappointed because it's an inanimate object that can't think or feel at all. The ground would make a perfect companion - completely judge free.

You hear the sound of Dave's clothes rustling as he moves, and before you can react, his arms are around you and he's crushing you to his chest. You're a little too surprise to hug him back, so you just move your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

"Dave?" Your voice is far quieter than intended. "Are you okay?" He's completely still in your arms. In a TV show, he'd be crying or shaking or something, but he's not. He's utterly unmoving, like a statue. It unnerves you far more than the hug itself.

He takes in a shaky breath and then pulls back, nodding a little. "Yeah. I'm fine." You're about to call him out on lying to you, but he moves away before you can. You watch, and he sets his new camera down next to the old one, a look on his face that you can't quite place.

You shuffle closer, and his head just barely tilts in your direction, telling you that you have his attention. "There's, uh, some film in the box, too." You add hesitantly. "You always need some of that, right? And I know that you're camera is a lot nicer than that one, so you can return it if you want. Maybe use the money to get something that you actually need? Not that you'd need someone else's money since you're loaded and all." You're beginning to ramble a little, but you don't care. The words just won't stop coming. "I asked Jade for advice on what you like. At the dance? You interrupted us, you asshole, but you probably already knew that. It strikes me as a bad thing that the most I know about you had to come from a third party. Why don't you open up more? Is it because of me as a person, or are you just naturally closed off? I've known you for three years, and I don't even know why your favorite color is red." It has to be red, right? Why else would he wear so much of it?

At this, he chuckles humorlessly, tilting his head to look at you head on. Your words stop abruptly in your throat as you immediately silence yourself. You hate when he looks at you like that. As if you're a complete open book.

"If you want to know why red is my favorite color," Dave begins, stepping forward and taking your hand in his, "then you can just see for yourself." He lifts your hand up, curling your fingers around his shades - urging you to take them off.

But suddenly, you aren't sure if you want to. "Dave, I-" You try to pull back.

He holds you fast, shaking his head firmly. "I mean it, Karkat." He says, and the seriousness in his voice makes you pause. "I trust you. And I want you to look."

This time, you don't bother going slow. No point in giving you both time to back out, now is there? You turn his shades over in your hands, and they look odd without his face framing them. They don't seem real, so you decide to look away from them and at Dave instead.

Which immediately proves to be a mistake as your heart stops for a few seconds. You thought that his gaze was piercing before, but now? Now you can't seem to look away. You're walls have been obliterated. Your layers, your defenses, your witty remarks - all of it withers as he stares at you.

"Your eyes." You manage softly after a moment, unblinking as you lose yourself in them. "They're-"

"Red." Dave finished for you, nodding in confirmation. "Normally, albinos don't have such… concentrated red eyes, but I guess I'm an exception." He shrugs, tilting his head a little to the side. "So, uh… they don't… bother you?" Dave asks after a moment. And here, with his shades and his protections stripped away, you can see how nervous he is. It's so easy to read Dave like this. You want to snap his shades so that he never wears them again, but the only thing that _that_ will do is annoy him. He has an extra pair upstairs anyway.

You just shake your head, stepping closer. "Not really." You say in an unusually soft voice, cupping Dave's cheek without thinking too hard about it. "They're really…" _beautiful_ , you want to say. But you don't. You're not good at expressing your feelings directly. "Different." You say finally. "And really incredible to look at." You lean closer, and- are those little flecks in his eyes? They are! Oh sweet Jesus, that's adorable.

Dave lets out a breath that you hadn't realized he had been holding in, and he starts talking. You listen attentively, watching his eyes swirl with emotion has he continues. "I wear the shades because my eyes are extremely sensitive to light." He explains tentatively. "Seriously - I once woke up with my blinds open and had a migraine for an hour. It's fucking ridiculous. So it's just easier to wear the shades. They help me keep my thoughts to myself, too. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and if the windows are covered, how are you ever going to see inside?" The corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. "Of course, you've probably figured that out for yourself by now."

You scowl, but can't even pretend to stay mad for long. He's melting you with his eyes - making you feel mushy and far too sappy for your own good. There's are so many things you could say to him right now. The mood is perfect. You could tell him how much you love his eyes. Or how much you love him. And you open your mouth to try, but nothing comes out. The words don't come to you, as simple as they are. You're just not as ready as you thought you were.

"Dave?" You say his name instead, quiet and afraid to shatter this moment like glass. He's never looked more fragile to you. He never looked so breakable.

He blinks, and you take special notice of his eyelashes. Goddamn. No one should have eyelashes that thick and perfect. It's downright unnatural. "Karkat." He says back, mirroring you.

You swallow thickly. "Can I kiss you?"

And he smiles. A real smile, too. None of those smug half-smiles you're so used to getting. "I'd be insulted if you didn't." And his tone isn't teasing. It's so drenched in affection that you wish he hadn't said it. It makes your stomach twist up in knots as you press your lips to his to shut him up - to keep him from unraveling you yet further.

 _Next time._ You think to yourself as you run your hands through his hair and his hands go to your hips. _Next time I'll tell him for sure._

You are so incredibly bad at lying to yourself.

* * *

 **A/N: So, a thought I had whilst writing this:**

 **Do you guys think that there's DaveKat fanart that can go with this fanfic? Probably not. Maybe I can commission something, though? That'd be fucking awesome. DaveKat fanart is my reason to live.**


	7. A Little Misery

**A/N: Shoutout to my proof-reader for not touching this for four days and then getting it all done in under 24 hours per my request. It's amazing how many times she reads through my shit. Which is exactly what this story is, you know.**

* * *

For a while, everything is great.

You would say "perfect" but nothing is ever perfect. Perfection is relative, and therefore, impossible. But you would say that things have been going well. The only downside is that Dave has actually been being a good and attentive boyfriend.  
He keeps asking you why you never seem to eat lunch at school anymore, and you refuse to tell him despite the very simple answer. You don't eat because there's no money in your account. Why? You suppose because your mom took it out to pay for her… fix. It's not like she can hold a job while she's high, so you guess that she's getting desperate. That isn't good. Now you're always nervous at home - waiting for the day when it gets repossessed due to failure to pay taxes or however that works. Maybe one day you'll come home and the lights won't work. You don't really know what to expect, so you try to spend as little time at home as you can. And it's pretty easy.

In the three months since Christmas, a lot of little things have happened.

Dave has taken to spoiling you rotten. Now that you know he's loaded, he apparently feels no need to hide it any more. Everyday when he picks you up, he has something. Usually, it's a small gift, since he knows how much you hate being pampered. He usually brings coffee, with as much caffeine as a Starbucks employee can cram into a single cup. You need it for the day ahead. Sometimes he has little snacks, since you aren't eating and according to him, "you're already like 30 pounds underweight, and sometimes I think that I'll break your back if I hug you, so yes, the food is necessary." You don't think that you're _that_ skinny, but you eat what he gives you regardless. It makes him happy, and it shuts him up, so it's like killing two birds with one stone. And sometimes, he brings you an actual gift, like a stuffed animal, that you are ashamed to admit that you sleep with every night. You absolutely draw the line at money, though. You refuse to let Dave give you any cash. The one time he tried, you ripped the bill in half. That got your message across pretty well. He did give you a picture of him and you going to the winter formal, though. The same one he has pinned to his corkboard. It was framed and everything, and you set it on your nightstand and haven't moved it since.

Long story short, Dave is really good at relationships. Even the fake ones.

On New Year's, he showed up at your house and kissed you while you and Kankri watched the ball drop in New York. He then immediately left, leaving you flustered and stuttering like a fool on your doorstep. You tried to yell at him about it the next time you saw him, but then he kissed you _again_ , and you forgot why you were mad in the first place. You hate his stupid, intoxicating kisses and the way you're beginning to crave them.

On Valentine's day, you were expecting something ridiculously romantic and way too expensive. Instead, Dave brought you breakfast and sat with you on the couch, making sure you ate all of it despite your protests. After you were thoroughly stuffed, he pulled you against him, turned on the TV, and let you put on any movie you wanted while you two cuddled. He said that the plan was simple: a lazy movie day, complete with ordering pizza, cuddling, a lot of kissing, and just overall not doing anything except enjoying each other's presence. You're not sure how he does it. How does Dave always know exactly what you need? Because you needed a lazy day. You needed to be cuddled, and you just needed the overall sense of… being taken care of. Not taking care of everything for once was nicer than you'd like to admit. And he definitely earned those kisses, even if your lips were going to be a little bruised for a few days.

Now, it's St. Patrick's Day, and you're busy wondering if he has anything planned for today. It's not a _traditional_ romantic holiday, but you're willing to bet that he's got something up his sleeve if only to annoy you.

You are not disappointed.

You open the door, and Dave is standing there in all his glory, dressed head to toe in black. That's… unusual. Not what you were expecting, at least. He's never worn just one color before. Usually it's blue jeans and a different graphic tee, but he can do what he wants, you suppose. At least he looks good in black.

"Alright, I'll just ask. Who died?" You ask as you heave your backpack over your shoulder and step out onto the front porch.

Dave rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you with ease. "No one _died_. I'm just celebrating the spirit of St. Patrick's Day."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you give him an odd look. "Dave. This holiday is about wearing green to avoid the unwanted pinching of classmates who think they're being cute. This is not about rediscovering your emo phase from middle school."

He smirks, and you realize too late that you've blundered right into his trap. "Well, yeah. But haven't you heard? If you wear _red_ on St. Patrick's Day, people have to kiss you instead."

You feel like you're losing brain cells the longer you keep this conversation going. "Dave." You say as you rub your temples.

"Yeah?" And he looks so damn _smug_ that you almost punch him.

"You're wearing all black. Literally, there is no red clothing anywhere on your body."

He scoffs, crossing his arms - upset - as he looks away. "Well, that's just rude, Karkat. Assuming the color of someone's underwear. How low can you get?"

You tense, and stop walking, turning to look at him. "... what exactly are you hoping to accomplish by telling me about your underwear?" You ask once you find your voice. You're beginning to think that Dave has no shame. There seems to be no ends to the things he'll do to get your attention.

"They're red." Dave says simply, crossing his arms. "And since only _you_ know that, I expect _this_ to happen." And before you can tell him that he's being ridiculous, he leans down and kisses you gently.

Your anger and frustration immediately evaporates, and your arms go around his neck automatically as you kiss back. You have to get up on your tiptoes to kiss him, because you're 5'4" and he's 6' of never-shut-the-fuck-up, but you don't mind the height difference so much when he's kissing you. You honestly think that you wouldn't even notice the end of the world if Dave was holding you like he is now. As if you're the most precious thing in existence. It makes your heart swell grossly with affection, enough to make you sick if anyone else dared to display it in public. But it's okay when it's between you and Dave.

He pulls away far too quickly, leaving you dizzy for more. He's something like a drug, and he knows it, too, if the smug look on his face is anything to go by. "So." He begins, his voice quiet as he cups your cheek. "Now who's the stupid one?"

You smile a little. "Still you." You reply, just as quiet. "But at least you're a good kisser. So you have that going for you."

Dave laughs, kissing your forehead before he really pulls away, reclaiming his personal space. He's standing just a foot away, but you feel oddly cold without his warmth. You hate that. How vulnerable and open he makes you. But maybe that's what you get for falling in love. He's your first at everything. Your first kiss, your first boyfriend, and your first love. Oh, sure, you've had feelings for plenty of trolls and humans alike before, but none of that even beings to compare to the way Dave makes you feel. It's awful.

When you get to school, John takes it upon himself to pinch both you and Dave for not wearing green.

You take it upon yourself to kick him in the shin. That seems to work pretty well, but he quickly rebuilds his spirit by pinching literally everybody else. If he didn't have such infectious optimism, he probably would have gotten punched for that. But, of course, he's John, so everyone just kind of let's it slide and moves on with their painfully dull lives.

The only noteworthy thing that happens during school itself is that there was suddenly money in your lunch account. Exactly $20, as a matter of fact. You're not sure how that happened. You did question Dave, but he swore on the right to kiss you that he didn't do squat. And with stakes as high as that, you begrudgingly have to believe him.

You still didn't eat, though. You weren't really hungry for charity food. Maybe you should get a job, instead. Someone in your house needs to be bring in money, and if your mom won't, then you're old enough to do it yourself. It's not like Kankri is going to pitch in. Mostly because he doesn't know about the state of your home life, but the day you mention it to him is the day you accept a small loan of one million dollars from Dave.

Meaning: it's not going to happen.

"Dave?" You began during the walk home, now far enough away from the school that the chatter of after school groups has faded into white noise that you can barely hear. "Do you think I should get a job?" You just want his opinion. You occasionally see "help wanted" signs when you're out driving, but you haven't really been interested until recently. Because, yes, you can drive. You actually got your license last year, since the driving law in your state is fifteen and no younger. No one else is going to go shopping for groceries, after all. You've had to grow up a lot since your dad died, but you think that you've managed pretty well. At least you won't be unused to anything once you move out for college and start living alone.

"Do you need one?" Dave asks as you walk, taking your hand in his absentmindedly. You frown a little, giving him a little squeeze while you think about his question.

The honest answer is "yes" because yes, you desperately need a job if you want to be able to keep the house. But instead, what you end up telling him is, "I just think it would be nice to have some extra money. So that I'm not completely broke when college undoubtedly sucks my funds dry." That answer is honest enough.

This earns a little laugh from Dave, and he shakes his head a little. "If you want a job, then go for it, Karkat. Nothing wrong with hard work. But I don't really think you need the added stress. You barely get any sleep as it is."

You can hear the concern slipping into his voice, and you scowl, looking away. "I sleep plenty." You grumble. But he's never bought your lies before, so why would he now?

Dave rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Those bags under your eyes speak _volumes_ about how much sleep you get, Karkat."

You touch the skin under your eye self-consciously, biting your lip. "Don't worry about it, Dave." You mumble. "It's not stress - just me having horrible time management skills." Again, it's a half-truth. You spend too much time just worrying instead of doing anything actually productive.

"Alright." Dave sighs, walking up the steps to your front door and leaning against the wall. "Then get a job. It shouldn't really affect your your schedule that much. Except it might just make you tired enough to actually sleep." He smirks a little at this, and you scowl, hitting him in the arm as you dig through your pockets for you house key.

"Yeah, very funny, _Dave_." You roll your eyes. "I'm literally laughing up a storm over here. The Pacific coast guard called and asked me to stop, but I said no. Because you're just _so fucking_ clever." His grin widens, and you ignore it this time, unlocking your door and pushing it open.

You immediately freeze.

"Karkat?" Dave frowns, looking at you curiously. "Is something wrong?" He peeks into the house around you, and his mouth forms a small "o" in realization.

Your mother looks out of place sitting in the living room so casually. She has a cup grasped in her hands, and it's subtle, but you can see that her grip is tight and white-knuckled, most likely to prevent her from shaking. She's cleaned up, or at least you think she has. Her dark hair is brushed and hangs limply around her shoulders, framing her face and outlining her forced smile. She looks… better. Less sickly, you think. It's hard to tell since trolls have thick, grey skin, but she looks less frayed. You don't trust it.

Before you can "ask" Dave to leave so that he doesn't have to witness this though, he does literally the exact opposite. He steps into your house, approaches your mother, and smiles.

Neither you nor her are entirely certain where this is going. Your expressions are identical, because you got her eyes and her nose, but your dad's thin lipped smile. But the looks of complete bewilderment matches.

Dave peels one of your mother's hands away from her cup, shaking firmly a few times before letting it drop. "Hi, nice to meet you." He says, his voice pleasant and silky smooth. "You must be Karkat's mom. I'm Dave - but I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know that. He doesn't talk about you a lot, but I've been wanting to meet you for a while."

You officially want to die. He just keeps going on and on about God knows what, and you're still stuck in the doorway, too surprised to move and end this complete disgrace for a first meeting. This isn't how it was supposed to go. Ideally, Dave would have never met your mom, but now? You're going to have to live with it. And why is he so good at this? Your mom is practically enthralled by his very presence.

Finally, you step forward, putting a hand on Dave's shoulder. He immediately quiets. "Uh, Dave, I know this is a big moment for you for whatever reason, but can you go?" You ask tensely, forcing politeness into every word. You feel like you can't breathe. "Me and mom have some... things we should talk about." You really hope that Dave takes the hint and _leaves_.

He frowns, looking for a moment like he wants to object, but then he hesitates. "Alright, yeah." Dave relents. "Sure, babe. I guess I'll see on Monday? Or this weekend if you want to hang out." He suggests, a little too hopeful, in your opinion.

You nod, just barely paying attention to him. "Sure." You agree. "I'll text you later."

Still not looking convinced, Dave reluctantly nodded and turned to go. "Alright. I'll see you later?" He said slowly, but it sounded more like a question. You just nod again, letting the silence blanket you and your mom as the door shuts behind Dave with a small click.

You never noticed before how… old she's getting. She had Kankri in her late twenties, and you just three years later, so she's, what, forty-six now? Forty-seven? In human years, of course. In troll years, you know that she's twenty-three, even if sweeps are only used widely in remote locations anymore. She looks tired, though. Worn. You're studying her, and she's staring back in return. You can see her twiddling her thumbs in her lap, and you can tell how hard it is for her to maintain eye-contact. She's nervous. And you don't blame her. But you're not going to make this any easier for her by being the first one to say something.

She must realize this - she is your mother after all - because she soon sighs, running a hand through her matted hair. Or, well, she tries. Her nails get caught in a knot about half-way through, and she winces before dropping her hand back to her lap.

"So… that's your boyfriend?" She begins, and her voice sounds tight. Forced, and raspy. The mug she was holding earlier sits forgotten of the table. It's most likely tea - for her throat - but neither of you are very concerned about that for the time being. "He seems… nice." She says slowly, glancing towards the door. "Never expected you to be into humans, though. Or, at least, not his personality type. He doesn't seem like the kind of person you'd hang out with."

You snort, rolling your eyes as you face is drawn into a scowl. "Oh, yeah, because you just know so much about me and my interests, don't you, mom? Must be your amazing observation skills." She visibly recoils from your words, but you don't care. It fills you with a sense of fulfillment to finally say what you need to. To hurt her the way she hurt you. "But wait! You can't even actually observe through walls, can you? And it's not like you ever left your fucking room except to acquire your next fix, so tell me, mom." You layer the last word with such venom and sarcasm that she actually looks appalled. "What do you think you know about me? Or him? Or anything involved in my life at all!" Your hands - at first crossed in front of you - are balled into fists at your sides. You'd be crying if you weren't so furious, but the backs of your eyes still have that familiar sting.  
But instead of shouting back or crying or simply leaving, your mother surprises you. She smiles a little, looking down at her lap. "You look so much like him…" She whispers, so soft that you can barely hear her. And you freeze, but it doesn't matter, because she continues. "You know, that's how we first met. Him yelling at me in the middle of class. We were working on a group project, and I was being uncooperative." Her smile widens at the memory. "He didn't have any patience at all back then. But he apologized. Offered to treat me to lunch as an apology…" She trails off, reaching up to fiddle with her necklace absent-mindedly. You hadn't noticed it at first, but now you can see that it's a gift from your dad, too. A thin, silver chain, with her wedding band strung onto it.

She shifts a little bit, pushing aside one of the thrown pillows and grabbing a picture frame from behind it. "So, when I saw this, I realized I was being silly." You move to stand behind the couch, peering over her shoulder at the picture. It makes your throat tight, and you're not sure how you're supposed to feel about this. It's the picture of you and Dave you had sitting on your nightstand. The one from prom night that had been taken without your knowledge.

"I can't believe how much of your life I've missed." Your mom sighed, staring sadly at the picture in her hands. "Kids always grow up fast, but if feels like just yesterday, you were heading off to your first day of kindergarten…" She looks towards the kitchen, and you know that she's not really seeing the kitchen. She's seeing things the way they used to be. Kankri, just in seventh grade, trying to show your dad how to properly prepare a chicken. Your mom, laughing and smiling when your dad inevitably drops it. And you, young and happy and so unbearably innocent and blind to the world. How things should be.

You bite your lip, coming around to sit next to her. "Yeah, I've…" You have to swallow thickly before you can continue. "I've had to do a lot of growing up recently."

Your mom winces, looking over at you with a guilty expression. "I- I know." She says shakily. "This picture made me realize what a child I'm being about all of this." She looks back at it, but you don't mind. It's probably hard for her to look you in the eye after what she did. "You just… you look almost exactly like him in that suit. And that boyfriend of yours - Dave - he reminds me of me." She sighs, gesturing at him in the photo a little. "Can you see it, Karkat? The look of complete adoration on his face? You have something special with him." Your throat is tight as she continues, and you find yourself staring at the picture. Is it really that obvious? How is it that everyone except you can see how much he cares about you? And here you were, thinking that Dave was just an excellent actor. Truth is, you both lost the game well before you even started playing. Funny how things work sometimes.

Looking away is hard, but when your mom takes your hand in hers, you have to look up at her. "Karkat." She says softly, a frown on her face. "I know I messed up. Truth is, the only reason I was in your room at all was to find some loose change." Her expression twists into one of shame, and you remain quiet. She hates herself plenty without you adding to it. "But in the end… I couldn't do it." She closes her eyes for a moment, only opening them when you give her hands a small squeeze. "I want to be part of your life again." She breathes. "You and Kankri both. You two got over him. So there's no reason why I can't, too. I think it's time that I stop living in a memory. That is-" A nervous glance to the side before the refocuses on you- "if you'll give me a second chance, I mean."

You just stare at her. You can feel her heart beating so loud that it's pulsing through her hands. You count them in time with her breaths. One. Two. Three. Who knows how many more are left? You don't want to be mad at your mom. Disappointed, sure, but there's also that looming feeling of hope you usually avoid. You don't want to get your hopes up, only to be crushed by disappointment. But she's your mom. And she's really all you have at the end of the day.

"Alright." You say quietly, not making eye contact. "I'll give you a second - _and final_ \- chance." You want to stress that last part. You're not going to get into the habit of forgiving people.

Your mom smiles softly, handing you your picture gently. "I probably don't even deserve that." She chuckles humorlessly. "But I promise I'll do my best with it."

You try to smile back at her, but your expression falters. You don't know how to take this. Should you be happy? Yeah, probably. So why aren't you? Luckily, you're saved from having to answer by the sound of your phone going off.

It's Dave's ringtone - the bridge of _"Hate To Love You"_ by Karmin - and you flush red in embarrassment. God, of all the songs. Why did you think that one was a good idea?

"Uh, that's Dave." You say awkwardly, clearing your throat. "I should probably get that…" You're already reaching for your phone, and your mom nods in understanding.

"Then answer it." She encourages you, standing up. "I need to throw away my… things." You don't need her to tell you what that means. You've always been good at reading between the lines. Her syringe. That's what she means.

You just wave her away wordlessly, clicking the call button and holding the phone up to your ear. "Yeah, Dave?" You ask, frowning into the phone. He wouldn't call you so soon after leaving unless it was something important.

 _"Karkat!"_ He gasps into the receiver, sounding out of breath. _"Karkat, come outside now. It's really important!"_

If you weren't worried before, you sure as Hell are now. He sounds so afraid "Dave? What's wrong? What are you-?"

 _"Karkat."_ Dave repeats, cutting you off, and there's an edge of seriousness in his voice that keeps you from talking back. _"Come outside. Please?"_ And that's the word that really hits it home for you.

Your heart squeezes uncomfortably, and you nod, sighing a little. "Yeah. Just give me a second." You mutter, hanging up the phone and tucking it into your pocket. You're just going outside, so you don't bother telling your mom where you're going. Instead, you just shrug on your jacket, pull out a pair of tennis shoes, and open the door.

Dave is waiting restlessly on the sidewalk, tapping his foot rapidly and chewing on his lower lip. He doesn't run up to you like you had anticipated. Instead, he makes a sort of gesture with his head, signalling for you to come to him.

You do so with a frown, pulling your jacket tighter around you in the cold air as you make your way towards him. "Dave?" You question, tilting your head to the side. "What's wrong? Why did you-" But before you can finish your sentence, he cuts you off _again_.

He crushes his lips to yours, yanking you flush against him into a desperate and messy kiss. You don't mind that much - it has you weak at the knees in no time at all - but he's not told you anything, so you force yourself to pull back, breathing hard. "Dave-" You manage, only to be silenced with another kiss. You have no idea what's got him so keyed up, but you decide to just let him burn himself out. You don't mind behind his form of release, anyway.

His hands go to your waist, forgetting that you're in public entirely as he completely eliminates any space left between the two of you. Your hands are around his neck, clinging for dear life as he soon renders your legs utterly useless. His mouth burns against yours, making you shiver and desperate for more.

By the time he pulls away, you're a panting mess as you struggle to discretely breathe. "Dave." You try again after a pause. This time, he doesn't stop you. "What- in the everloving _fuck_ \- happened in the five minutes I left you alone?"

"My parents. I just got off the phone with them on the way to get my bike." Dave says simply. "You know how they're big shot movie producers?" You nod, and he hurries to fill in the several missing gaps in this explanation. "They have a series lined up to direct, and my mom is taking on one of the big supporting characters. My dad is the head director, and he wants me and Rose to be two minor characters, since Roxy and Dirk have their schedules packed. They're doing, like, five movies. And they've decided that they don't want us living so far away from them anymore."

You know what he's saying - even if you don't want to believe it. You're throat is tight, and your mind spins as you stare at him, still holding each other like lovers who had been separated for years. You're both breathing hard - both of you have bruised lips from kissing so hard. But you've never felt further from him than you do now.

When you don't reply, he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip gently. Almost like he's afraid that pressing too hard will make you break. It's quite the contrast to his earlier behavior. "Karkat." He says your name barely louder than a whisper. "I'm moving to California in a month."

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so, remember once upon a time when I promised that this would end happily? I didn't lie. Two more chapters to go, people! Let's see if we can turn this around. (Bonus points for what is essentially a filler chapter (God, this chapter is so fucking short (At least 8 and 9 are almost done)))**


	8. Game Over

**A/N: For the record, I am very insecure about this chapter. I don't think it meets your expectations, but fuck it, this is my story. And as my proof-reader pointed out, I owe it to you guys to finish this. So here we go. Second to last chapter.**

* * *

When your alarm wakes you up in the morning, you immediately want to die. And that's not you being an over dramatic teenager - you legitimately want to curl into yourself and not move until your physical being withers away to dust. It will be poetic, and a much better option than wallowing through today.

Unfortunately, your mom has other plans. If it was a weekend, maybe she would consider just leaving you to rot, but it's Friday, which means school, which means that she's going to be a responsible parent and get your ass out of bed, no matter how much you complain or struggle.

"Karkat." Her voice is stern as she pulls your blanket off. "Your alarm went off ten minutes ago. Can't you get out of bed?"

You groan, begrudgingly moving into a sitting position now that she's robbed you of your warmth. "No." You say flatly, swallowing a yawn as you rub the sleep from your eyes. "If I stay in bed, then nothing bad will happen today because I won't be there to witness it. Ergo, sleeping puts the world on hold, which is exactly where it needs to stay." You grumble, looking away. Can she really blame you? Your mom knows what today is.

Sighing, she sits down next to you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and giving you a little squeeze. "Karkat, honey, it's going to be fine." She reassures you, putting your hair gently. "Look, you have his phone number. He's rich, isn't he? No reason why he can't visit." Your mom presses a kiss to your forehead, smiling gently. "It's not the end of the world. California really isn't that far away. Don't think of today as a… goodbye. Think of it as "see you later" okay?"

She's trying so hard to make you feel better about all of this. You swallow the growing lump in your throat, forcing a smile. "Okay." You agree quietly. Even though she's wrong. This isn't a "see you later," not at all. It's a "game over" and both you and Dave know it. This - whatever it is between you two - was never meant to last.

But you don't tell your mom that. You just keep smiling until, satisfied, she gets up to go microwave a breakfast for the two of you to share. Maybe make some toast or pop a waffle into the toaster. That's about all that either of you can cook.

Once she's left, you let your smile drop, sighing deeply as you pull yourself to your feet. You've had an entire month to prepare for the inevitable, but you still aren't ready. You get the feeling that you never will be.

Contrary to what you told your mom earlier though, the world doesn't stop moving just because you don't want to face it. You really have no choice. You're going to shower, get dressed, attempt and fail to eat, go to school, suffer until class ends, and then spend three hours with Dave and your assorted friends until the moving truck arrives. You don't even get alone time with your boyfriend on his last day with you. That's probably for the best, though. If you were alone, you might be tempted to confess your feelings to him. It's good that you haven't done that yet. It would only end in heartbreak. But you already knew that.

You sigh, sparing one last, longing glance at the picture of you and Dave resting on your nightstand, then gather your clothes and go to get ready for the day.

* * *

Dave is silent on the walk to school. He greeted you with a nod, and left it at that. You don't blame him. You would be quiet too, if you were him. He did hold hands the whole way with you, though, and you're not sure how to feel about that. You should be distancing yourself from him so that it hurts less when he leaves, but you just want to hold on tighter. You hate being in love. It's awful and terrible and all his fault. If only you could hate him - that would make everything so much easier. You think you deserve a break.

The school seems to match Dave's mood, because it's silent, too. It's like a thick blanket muffled everything normal, because any conversations were muted. They sound far away, and you can't make out the words. Even the colors are quiet, preferring black and gray over their usual, cheery colors. Or maybe you're just seeing things.

It's pretty hard to imagine the quietness of your lunch table, though. Normally, you can never get anyone to shut up, but today, no one feels like talking. You guess that Dave and Rose both underestimated how much you all care about them, because they both wear matching expressions of bewilderment as they eat mechanically. You have money for food now too, but you didn't bother getting a lunch. You know that you won't be able to eat it.

You were expecting Dave to be all over you on his last day - like he was when he got the news about the move to begin with - but he's not. He just stays close to you. There's no kissing, no touching - nothing except hand holding and his constant warmth next to you. It's nice. _He's_ nice. You don't know how you're going to go back to living normally with him just suddenly gone. Dave has become engraved in your life. Him leaving is something you have trouble wrapping your mind around.

Kanaya and Rose as whispering to each other softly, and you pick up promises of visits and texts and emails and video chats whenever possible. You wonder briefly why Dave hasn't set up anything like that with you, but then you remember. You're just a game. A toy. He's probably relieved to be rid of you. The thought stings, but you suck it up. Why you ever thought you and Dave could be something real is beyond you.

The day passed faster than you wanted it to. It seems like you've only been awake for five minutes, and school has already buzzed right on by. You don't remember what you learned or who you saw, or any details at all, actually. You were in school, and now you're not. That's all there is to it.

"Hey." Terezi nudges you, a frown on her face. You don't remember leaving school, or arriving at Dave's house, but you guess it happened because you're sitting in his yard. They're waiting for the movers to finish tucking everything away and packing it into the truck. Mostly because Dirk wants to supervise. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't trust strangers with his things. He and Roxy should be back at school, but they have a leave or something, and they're passing their classes, anyway. Dirk said that they can pretty much so whatever they want as long as they turn everything in on time. Maybe that's the kind of freedom that comes with being a rich college student. You wouldn't know.

You blink, giving her a confused look. "What is it?" You can't imagine what she could possibly want to talk about.

She shrugs, looking over your other friends with her sightless eyes. All of you are here, even Gamzee, despite the fact that he claims to hate Dave. Well, at least on days he hasn't had enough sopor. You'll never understand why he eats that shit. Sure, soper pills help ward off nightmares, but why he would crush then and cook them is beyond you. You don't even know where he gets enough pills to do that, and you want to keep it that way. Ignorance is bliss.

The others are socializing, mostly standing, unlike you and Terezi, who are occupying a bench. Dave is in the bathroom, you think. Rose. Kanaya, John, and Roxy are all sharing a conversation, and if John thinks that the way he's looking at Rose's sister is subtle then boy do you have some news for him. They're both idiots, in your opinion. Roxy is clearly into him, and you're seriously beginning to consider walking over there and pressing their faces together until they get the hint. "Do you think John hates me?" Terezi speaks up suddenly. You guess she was following your line of sight. Metaphorically, you mean.

"How should I know?" You grumble, looking away. "Why don't you try biting his lip? Maybe he'll take pity on you and claw at your bony shoulder blades." You don't understand why they hate each other. If John understood quadrants even the slightest bit, she could probably get away with making black advances like that. But her chances of him returning those feelings aren't good.

She rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Sure. And while I'm doing that, you can fall into Dave's arms and confess how _deeply_ you love him." Terezi says this with a breathy, overdramatic voice, as if she's making a confession herself.

You turn red in embarrassment, shooting a glare at her. "This conversation is stupid. We both know that our romantic pursuits are equally pointless and 100% likely to end in failure. John is too dense and even blinder than you are to even begin to comprehend your feelings or recuperate them, and Dave-" You hesitate. "Dave doesn't love me, anyway." Your voice is quiet, almost sad. The words sting, but you know you needed to hear them. The sooner you accept the inevitability of a future with Dave, the sooner you can move on.

Terezi raises an eyebrow at you, an expression on her face that tells you just how stupid she thinks you are. "What are you talking about?" She snaps incredulously. "He asked you out! You've been dating him for six months! The amount of time you spend together is _ridiculous_! Karkat-!" She grabs you by the shoulders, whirling you to face her and the intensity of her gaze. "You _have_ him. He's _yours_. Don't fuck that up by being your usual passive-aggressive self. _Don't_ let him get away." She spares a glance at John, and her expression wavers. You're not sure how, but you think she's talking from personal experience.

You take a deep breath, brushing her hands off of your shoulders. "Fine." You stay stiffly, narrowing your eyes at her. "I'll tell him if you tell John."

She simply scoffs. " _Please_ , Karkat. He's your boyfriend. He already loves you, and if he doesn't, then kick him in the shin and move on with your life. At least you have a chance." She grimaces. "John is clearly too thick to understand black feelings. It's one of the reasons why I hate him to begin with. Plus," Terezi gives you a serious look, narrowing her eyes, "you shouldn't do it for me. You need to tell him for _you_. He's leaving soon, you know. And I know you two had a rough start, but you love him, so let him know."

You frown, thinking over your options. To tell or not to tell? That is the question. It's a fucking stupid question though, because obviously the answer is don't tell. Dave is leaving. He isn't bothering to keep in touch because he doesn't want to. If you two had some sort of story book romance like Romeo and Juliet, he might proclaim his love to you and how he can't live without you by his side and blah blah blah. The point is, he's not going to say any of that. This is the real world, not some Disney movie where everything turns out alright in the end and the two love interests live happily ever after. Sometimes, relationships simply don't work. That's all there is to it, and you and Terezi both need to accept it. She needs to get over John, and you need to get over Dave. Preferably soon. You've never been lovesick before, and you're not excited to try it out. You really hate Dave for making you feel like this.

"Alright." You sigh, standing up. "I'll talk to him. But when this blows up in my face, I will come back here and shove both my feet so far up your flat ass that people will have to open your mouth to tie my shoes." You glare at her to emphasise this, showing that you're serious.

In response, Terezi cackles, giving you an amused grin. "Fair enough." She nods. "Now get to it. I don't give pep talks and then not get results. It just doesn't happen."

You don't reply. Talking any further would result in you and her going back and forth until it's three in the morning, and you're both still just sitting there attempting to get the upperhand in a pointless verbal debate. And that is a waste of your valuable time.

You catch Dave coming back from the bathroom, grabbing him by the wrist before he can head outside. "I need to talk to you. In private." You add that second sentence after a moment's hesitation. You don't have the patience right now to deal with Dave being a smart ass.

He looks confused, but nods regardless. "Sure." He agrees. "My bed is still in my room until they finish with Roxy's. We can talk there."

That works, you suppose. You're not really in the position to be picky, so you follow him up the stairs silently. The hallway is the same as you remember, just emptier. They took the picture frames off the walls and packed them into boxes, placed in the back of the moving truck to be set up in their new house.

What really hits it home though, is seeing how empty Dave's room looks. It wasn't very decorated before, but now it looks absolutely barren. His walls are stripped clean, his turntables are gone, and the only furniture left in the room is his bed, which he mentioned earlier. Everything has been packed into boxes. Some are in a little stack by his door, and you read one that says " _Dave's clothes"_ and another that says " _Dave's pictures"_ but you don't know where everything else is. Maybe it's in the truck that left a little before you got here. Maybe it's in the almost-full one parked in the driveway. Either way, it's not here, and soon, he won't be, either.

"What did you want to talk about?" Dave asks quietly, pulling you over to his bed before taking a seat himself.

You take a deep breath, steadying your resolve as you sit down across from him. But the words don't come. " _I love you."_ What would be the point in saying that? He's leaving regardless. Maybe you just want him to know. Or maybe you're still delusional enough to think that he'll wait for you or some other bullshit. So instead, what you end up saying is, "I guess this is it, huh?" You don't look at him. "Game over? I know you like those stupid metaphors that relate to the situation." You smile a little, but there's no joy in your expression. "I bet you've been waiting ages to use that one."

Dave frowns, studying you for a moment, then nods. "Yeah." He admits tensely. "But I didn't think I would have to so soon." You wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. Normally, you can never get Dave to shut up, but now he seems content to stay quiet.

"Like it matters." You mutter bitterly, rolling your eyes. "Weren't you going to say it eventually, anyway? This is just a little early. The "game" was only supposed to last until the end of the school year, right?" Your voice has a hard edge to it, and you don't understand why you're suddenly so mad at him. Oh, wait. You completely understand. It's because he played you for a fool, and now he's ditching your pathetic, lovesick self for a bunch of floozies that will no doubt swarm someone like him. He's rich, pretty, and going to be in a movie. You bet he'll love the attention.

Dave looks away, recoiling as if you wounded him. Good. You hope he hurts so that you won't be the only one. "Karkat, I-" But he stops himself. What is there to say, anyway? Nothing that could change anything by this point, you're sure. You don't even know why, but suddenly you're angry. So blindingly furious that it's astounding you haven't snapped yet. You hate him so fucking much. For challenging you to this stupid game and then winning like the egotistical asshole that he is. "I'm sorry." He settles on finally, and any hope of you _not_ snapping at him goes out the fucking window.

"Sorry doesn't mean jackshit, Dave!" You snarl, pulling away when he tries to touch you and instead clamoring to your feet. "Do you really think that sorry is going to make up for what you did? I sure hope you realize what a fucked up thing you did to me, or else I'm going to have to give up hope for your entire fucking species!" God, you're crying. Fuck, you're crying, and it's red and getting everywhere, but Dave isn't trying to comfort you, and you take solace in that little fact. "You don't just- _fuck, Dave!_ \- you don't just toy with someone's emotions that way and leave when it's convenient for you!" You know that's not what he's doing. Not really. But you're too mad to care. That's what it feels like, and Jesus Christ does it _hurt._ You underestimated how weak your walls where when you first decided to start playing this piece of shit game. You should have known that he was going to break you. You want to say more - so much more - but you stop yourself. Any further, and he'll know that he won.

He stares at you for a silent, agonizing minute. "I'm sorry." Dave says again, quieter. And if you weren't mad before, you sure as _fuck_ are now.

"Is that all you know how to say?" You demand, your vision blurring with tears. You don't move to wipe them away. You don't want to acknowledge that Dave and his stupid game are making you cry. "Because I don't think you know what it means." It means that he regrets his actions, and you can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't regret any of it. If only there was a way for you to wring his neck without getting caught.

When he opens his mouth again, you know exactly what to expect. "I'm sor-"

"No." You cut in, your anger melting out of you as you deflate sadly. It's as if rage was the only thing keeping you going, because now you feel worn out. But you're not disappointed. You hadn't really expected anything else. "No, you're not."

You brush the tears away as you turn to go, and a part of you can't help but hope that Dave will stop you on your way out. The more realistic part of you isn't surprised when he doesn't do anything. You feel disgusted and used, and you want to brush your teeth until you can't taste him anymore, but you know that you're never going to be able to forget someone like him.

On your way out the door, you pass by one of the movers, and your steps quicken. She's going into Dave's room, and you know that he'll be leaving soon to avoid getting in their way. You don't want to see him again. You just managed to get your eyes dry (at the cost of stained sleeves) and you know that you'll start crying if you see him. Weren't you supposed to tell him how you feel? Ha, what a joke! Terezi should have known better than to think that you're capable of that.

Speak of the devil, she's waiting for you when you step out of the house to regroup with anyone. Why you're bothering to be social instead of hiding away for years until you rot is behind you, but it's apparently a thing that you're doing, so you're going to roll with it.

"How did it go?" Terezi asks, not bothering with the pleasantries as she pretends to examine her nails. You reply by promptly turning and slamming your head into the side of the house. She just sighs. "That bad, huh?"

You groan, turning so that the bricks aren't digging into your face. Instead, they can hurt the back of your head. "We broke up." You say flatly. "Completely done. Over with. In the past. Thanks for your swell advice." Neither of you actually said that it was a breakup, but there's not really a different way for a conversation like that to end.

Terezi scowls, shaking her head with an exasperated sigh. "Of course you did. That's the exact opposite of what I told you to do, but really, what else should I have expected from you?"

You just shrug. You're not really in the mood for dealing with Terezi. Or life in general. You just want to go home and sleep for a few days. Maybe forever. You haven't decided yet. "Don't know why you ever entertained the idea that I could pull that off correctly." You tell her honestly. "It's probably for the best. I hear long distance relationships never work out." It's a bullshit excuse, and you know it. Terezi knows it, too.

But she only sighs, looking at you like you're the biggest fucking fool on the planet before she walks away. Yeah, you deserve that. You deserve to be decked in the face, because you're just as bad as Dave.

You don't regret what he did, either. Not even when the moving truck is packed, and you're still just standing against the house numbly as Rose, Roxy, Dave, and Dirk pile into the car. You watch them go, your throat tight with emotion and words you're forcing yourself to keep in. If Dave looks back, you don't notice. You have to look away, otherwise everyone would notice that you're crying again.

Usually, game overs come with an extra life. But you don't think that such a thing exists when it comes to Dave.

* * *

 **A/N: Wow, shit chapter. The next one is better. Slightly. Maybe. Possibly. My proof-reader isn't allowed to read it until everyone else can. Some might say that I'm mean, or maybe I'm just black flirting because I know how much she enjoys this pairing. (That was a joke, by the way. She reads the author's notes.)**

 **Also** **!**

 **I got my first fanart for this work! Telling you that I'm excited would not even begin to describe how fucking happy I am for this. It was drawn by the wonderful Obvious Pseudonym O'Flaherty on , and yes, you should check him out because he deserves more fans. Here's the image, so you don't have to spend time searching. Aren't I considerate of you guys? It's for the scene from chapter six. If you guys remember that. It was a while ago, wasn't it? Hard to believe we're almost done!**

 **NOTE: This website doesn't allow URLs, so the image is only found on ArchiveOfOurOwn or Quotev, where this story is also posted. Sorry about that.)**

 **Well, I'm done rambling. Toon in next time for the exciting final installment! Which should be in about a week. Then I'll stop bothering you until next time. Promise.**


	9. Seven Years

**A/N: Guys, I am sadly heartbroken. My black advances are unreciprocated by my proof-reader. I'll never write again.**

 **That's a joke, by the way. Can you feel my intense sarcasm, even through the screen?**

 **So without any further distractions, I now give you: the long awaited happy conclusion to this train wreck. I was going to wait a full week to post it, but… I'm not completely heartless in there, okay?**

* * *

"And you're sure that there's no way to back out of this?"

"Not unless you have a secret twin or a body double or something that can keep John from noticing that you're missing from the most important day of his life."

"So, basically, there's not?"

"Of course not."

Your name is Karkat Vantas. You are 24 years old, but you are only 5'5" and you weigh about 125 pounds soaking wet. You are employed as a substitute English teacher at a high school three states away. Why, exactly, are you out of state, one may ask? To attend the event that you're currently trying to weasel out of, of course. Terezi isn't making it easy for you, though. You just _had_ to RSVP a yes while half-asleep, didn't you?

You groan lowly, rubbing your temples as you spare a glance at your platonic date out of the corner of your eye. "I'm pretty sure that John has enough moral support without me gluing myself to the wall and catering table like the antisocial asshole I am." You tell her, annoyance working it's way into your voice. You two have been going on about this for almost three hours now, and she's still as patient with you as always.

It would be nice if you could fall in love with her, or vise versa, but sadly, it's not to be. You only see her as a friend or big sister now, and she's not really looking for a matesprit. She says that her moirallegiance with Vriska supplies more than enough emotional fulfillment, and there's no reason to not believe that. You're just glad that she finally got over her black crush on John. If he was a troll, the multiple datemates thing wouldn't be a problem. However, humans tend to be less open to "sharing" and you seriously doubt that Roxy would be okay with that, no matter the circumstances. So, kudos to Vriska for talking some sense into her.

"Karkat, you're his best friend." Terezi says for the umptenth time. Her brows are drawn together in slight frustration, and her sightless eyes are somehow locked on you. "Today he is getting _married_. What in the fuck is so _bad_ that you want to skip something like that?"

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, looking away. She knows why. But you're not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing you say it. You haven't seen him or heard from him in seven years, but you just _know_ that he's going to attend his best friend's wedding.

Dave is going to be there, and you don't think that you're ready for that.

Maybe you never will be. Because you fell for him seven years ago. You fell hard, and put your trust in him to catch you and he didn't. You know that it's not his fault that he had to leave, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. You loved him so much that you couldn't think about anything else for almost two weeks. And the worst part is that you still do. You still love him, and it makes you sick. How sad is it that you're still hung up over your high school sweetheart seven years later? It's even worse when you consider what kind of relationship you actually had with Dave. You shouldn't have fallen in love, but you did, and he didn't.

You wonder if he's bringing a girl to the wedding. You assume that it's a girl because girls have always been his type. He never did tell you why he suggested the game in the first place, but then again, you never told him that you love him.

"Terezi, you know that-" You go to say, and she slaps a hand over your mouth. It's the non-pale way of shushing you, which you much prefer. If Kanaya wasn't exclusively interested in women, she could easily be your moirail, but sadly, she's about as far on the homo side of the sexuality spectrum as a troll can be. At least she finally gave up on Vriska. You don't see that pale relationship ever working out, even ignoring the fact that she has a moirail currently.

Glaring at you, Terezi nods her head towards the window of the taxi. "Shut up. We're slowing down. So put your face back on, Karkat. You can break down about your pathetic love life and shovel ice cream into your mouth _when we get back to the hotel_ , but for now, we have a wedding to attend and pretend to enjoy." She says all of this quickly, and by the time she's finished, the taxi has come to a complete stop.

You wanted to get a limo or something nicer to take you and her, but with you living off of a teacher's salary, and Terezi still in law school, that clearly wasn't going to happen. It was nice to think about, though.

Still, while Terezi's words are somewhat harsh, that doesn't make her any less right. She's always right, which is one of the reasons why you hate arguing with her. You have to make sure that John's special day goes exactly as it should, which means that you can't have a meltdown during the ceremony and flip tables while you spaz your way out the door. As tempting as it sounds. But this wedding is also about one other thing.

You're going to show Dave that you're perfectly happy without him.

That's not at all true, but does he need to know that? Nope. You doubt that he would care, anyway. Back in high school, you were just a game to him. He's probably attending with a girl that actually means something to him.

The thought makes your throat tight, but you swallow your emotions, and push open the taxi door. Like the gentleman you are, you offer Terezi your hand and help her out. You also hand over her walking stick, and she thanks you by "accidentally" nailing you in the shin with it. Sometimes you forget what an asshole Terezi is. All of your friends kind of are, actually. Maybe you should rethink your social group.

You walk beside her, hands in your pockets, as you help her into the wedding hall. The good news is that, when it comes to Terezi, "helping" just means that you have to tell her where the stairs are so that she can feel for them instead of tripping and landing flat on her face. And the thought is _seriously_ appealing, but you don't want to ruin her dress. Not because you like it or anything. It's rather simple - knee-length and a dark shade of teal with black accents, but it's a rental. She would kill you, and then bring you back to life just so that you could pay for the dress and kill you again for shits and giggles. Luckily, you aren't stupid enough to ruin her dress, and the two of you make it inside the building without a hitch.

"I'm going to sniff around for a bit, Karkat." Terezi tells you as soon as you step inside, and you grunt in acknowledgement before she untangles herself from your presence and heads deeper into the room. You aren't really paying attention to her anymore. You're scanning the greeting hall for Dave. You don't see him anywhere - not even after searching twice - and that makes you feel even stupider when you remember why he's not in attendance. He's John's best man, and the younger brother of the bride. He's no doubt in the dressing rooms, making sure that they're both ready to do this thing.

Well, _that's_ an instant relief to you. That means you have some time to calm down before you see him. Of course, you quickly realize that the alcohol is under lock and key until after the ceremony, and you curse softly when a quick pat of your pockets reveals that you left your anxiety pills at the hotel. Great.

You also happen to see an older human that looks disturbingly like Dave wrapped in the embrace of a woman who looks so much like Roxy that you're scared for a second. But no, it's just their parents. Of course they'd be at their daughter's wedding. You promptly put yourself as far away from them as the room will allow.

You are so fucked.

You and the other guests are soon told to take your assigned seats. You've been to a wedding before - Kankri's and Cronus' actually (marriage isn't generally a troll thing, but Cronus had insisted) - and you know that your seat is set directly in front of where the best man will stand. Dave probably did that on purpose. To taunt you. He hasn't changed a bit.

Everyone gets in their positions. The bridesmaids, the ring bearer, the groom, the best man, and other people that you are choosing to ignore. John looks nervous, but also happy. The happiest you've ever seen him, as a matter of fact. And you really are happy for him. Even if Dave's presence up front makes it hard to focus on much else.

Somehow, as the ceremony drags on and on _and on_ , you manage to keep your eyes off of Dave. Not the whole time. You steal little glances at him when you are completely, 100% certain that he's not looking at you. He looks different, you quickly realize. He's grown a few inches, and you notice more muscle tone than you remember, even with his thick suit jacket on. He's still pale, and his hair is still that obnoxious blonde-white color, though. The freckles dotting his cheeks aren't visible from where you're sitting, but you hope that they're still there. You always thought that freckles were cute. Not that Dave is cute at all- actually, why are you even bothering? You think he's adorable. It's pretty fucking obvious.

You stand up with the rest of the crowd when John and Roxy finish their "I do"s and kiss, clapping with enough enthusiasm to at least not stand out. You lag a little behind though, your movements slow and heavy as Dave lingers just out of the corner of your eye.

You think for a fleeting moment that he's looking back at you, but whether that thought is actual observation skills or your own repressed desires, you aren't sure.

The events following pass by in a blur - posing for pictures, socializing, Dave far too close for comfort, more pictures, yet more socializing, so many congratulations that you want to erase the word from history - and if you don't remember something, it's probably because your traumatized mind blocked it out.

But at the reception, things finally calm down. You're not sure where you are now - just that it's big and far too fancy and definitely not the wedding hall.

Soft piano music wafts out the open balcony doors, dancing through your mind and urging you to just let go for once and have some fun. If only that was something you could do. Instead, you block it out, holding your head in your hands and staring out over the city beneath you. You're - what? - four floors up? So it's not the highest view, but it's still nice. You enjoy it, at least.

"Hey." Dave's voice attracts your attention, and you look over at him. He's leaning against the door frame like the cool kid he is. Funny. You hadn't heard him approach.

You can feel your heart rate spiking at his presence, but you feel oddly disconnected from it. It's not effecting you. "Hey." You say back, turning to face him fully. Maybe you shouldn't have substituted your anxiety pills with hard liquor. Didn't you once promise yourself that you wouldn't use alcohol as an escape? It's odd that Dave seems to be the only exception for the promises you make to yourself. You didn't really have that much, anyway. Two or three shots, you think. Enough to get you tipsy and relaxed, but not out-of-your-mind drunk. You're not irresponsible.

Dave walks over to stand next to you, leaning against the balcony and studying the view like you were just a second ago. You're studying the view, too. A different kind of view though. You… never noticed what a nice ass Dave has. Okay, that's a lie. You always noticed, but he never bent over in front of you. And he was never so close yet so unattainable. And you were never drunk. You're still sober enough to make good choices though, so you stick your hands in your pockets instead of finding out if Dave's ass is as firm as it looks, like you are still sorely tempted to do. You drag your gaze up, taking in the curve of his back and the hardened muscles from training all the time. God damn, why did you ever let Dave go? Your eyes are focused on his face now, and you do your best to memorize the sight. The freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, the careful lines of his jaw, and how soft and kissable his lips look, parted just slightly as he breathes. For all you know, this might be the last time you see him.

Dave looks over at you then, and you do your best to pretend as if you weren't just staring. Not that he buys your act even a little bit. "Karkat." He speaks up suddenly, giving you his best attempt at a good conversation starter. He could have done better. "Small talk isn't really my thing, but, uh, how's your mom?" He tilts his head to the side. "And your brother. Kankri, right? Heard from John that he got married."

"Yeah." You sigh a little, happy for the distraction. "Kankri is doing great. About as happy as I've ever seen him. And my mom is good." And by "good" you mean "furious" obviously. She never quite forgave Dave for breaking your heart. She always had a list of ways you could have made it work. Video chat. Texting. Visiting - surely Dave was rich enough to afford that? And every time, you would run out of excuses. Eventually, you found yourself agreeing with her. Dave only left you behind because he didn't love you and the move was convenient for him. You don't know why you ever thought otherwise. Rose and Kanaya made it work. Those two can do anything they put their minds to. "Those movies turned out terrible, by the way." You add after a moment, turning to topic to him. "The first two were good, but the three after that completely ruined the tone of the films."

He snorts, chuckling a little. "I'm surprised you watched them." He confesses. "I wouldn't've. Fuck, I was actually in them, and even I didn't like it. Not so much because of the movie itself, but because of, uh," you think he shoots a glance in your direction, but you can't be sure, "personal reasons."

You just nod, sober enough to notice that he's avoiding giving you a direct answer, but drunk enough to not care. You don't reply, and he doesn't give you a new topic. You both fall silent, looking out over the view. Inside, the piano music has picked up the tempo, now with violins. You never pictured Roxy as the type to enjoy a classy wedding reception, but both she and John wanted the traditional white-tie style ceremony. Go figure.

"Do you… ever think about moments like this?" Dave asks casually. You go to ask what he means, but he continues before you can. "And what I mean is - moments when there's nothing but you and the distance to the ground." He looks down over the ledge, watching the cars fly by well over the speed limit.

You nod a little, not bothering to lie. "All the time. But I'd never do it. It's just a nice thought sometimes - as a distraction." You know that Dave is talking about suicide. You always got the feeling that he was never really happy with life, but you never got why. Doesn't he have everything he wants?

Humming a little in thought, Dave pushes away from the railing, avoiding your gaze. "Can I try something? And have you promise not to get mad?"

Again, you nod. You don't have anything to lose, after all. "But for the record, if you try to jump, I'm going to pull your ass back down here and staple you to the wall." You tell him flatly. The day you let Dave jump is the day you follow him down.

This makes Dave laugh, and he steps a little closer, putting a hand on your cheek. "I promise I won't, okay?" He grins, and then his lips are against yours and nothing else matters.

You instantly press closer, your arms going around his shoulders as you kiss him deeply, running your hands through his hair. God, he feels exactly how you remember, even after all these years, and you moan softly against his lips. Dave takes the hint, pressing you up against the balcony railing as his hands go to your waist and his tongue brushes past your lips slowly - giving you plenty of time to push him away or tell him no.

The only problem is - you don't want to.

You grip his tie with one hand, giving a little tug to pull him closer still - your way of letting him know how impatient you're getting. He tastes like lime and vodka and mint gum, an unpleasant combination, but you couldn't care less. The only thing you're concerned with is how close you can get him before you start breaking public indecency laws.

When the two of you finally part, you're not entirely sure why. Your head is spinning, and so is everything else. You just want to kiss the boy you've been thinking about for seven long, lonely years, and he seems to feel the same way, so why are you stopping?

"Karkat, I- I can't." He says, face creased into a frown. "You're drunk - I can taste it. This isn't right. You're not thinking clearly."

You blink. "You're drunk, too." You can taste it - even if it was only one shot.

He sighs, pushing you away and taking a step back. "I know." He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly looking tired and weary. "And that's how I know we shouldn't do this. Neither of us is thinking clearly. Just like we weren't back then…" You hear a pang of regret in his voice, and your expression cracks.

"Do you regret being an us?" You ask, voice heavy with emotion. Sober, you wouldn't be brave enough to ask. But it seems as though tonight, you're completely throwing away your old personality. You know you're not in your right mind, but neither is Dave, so maybe he'll finally give you a direct answer.

Dave shakes his head rapidly, looking almost appalled at the thought. "Fuck no!" He shouts, his expression twisting into a grimace. "Asking you out was one of the best decisions I ever made."

He's clearly forgetting himself. "Dave," You sigh, "you didn't ask me out. You asked me to play a sick and twisted game that destroyed everything I thought I understood about love, and you won. Okay? You won seven years ago, and I just… never told you." You sigh, trailing off.

It feels good to finally have that off of your chest. He knows. Seven years of carrying that has made you tired, but you feel so much more awake now. You should have told him ages ago. Maybe that was why you couldn't move on? You don't really think it matters. All that's left to do is wait for his inevitable rejection.

But Dave was never very good at following guidelines, and what he says next completely wrecks your perception of him.

He winces, biting his lip as he looks away. "Actually, Karkat…" He begins softly, "you win. You won nine years ago, the moment I saw you that first day in class. Remember that?" Dave chuckles dryly at the memory. "I saw you, dripping wet and more pissed than I've ever seen anyone in my entire life, and I fell in love with the fire in your eyes."

You flush a dark red, at a loss for words as you try to figure out what to say. Fuck. You didn't know he was capable of pulling that poetic shit on you. "B-B-But-" You sputter, and just barely keep yourself from cringing, "you were a complete asshole towards me! You picked on me, and pulled pranks on me, and always said passive-aggressive things to put me down." Your expression cracks. "Why- why would you do that?"

Dave laughs again, louder this time, and sighs almost fondly as he looks back towards you. "I tried being nice. Or did you forget? For the first week after the incident with the bucket, I tried to be your friend. Maybe ask you out once you stopped being so aggressive. That didn't happen, though. You shot me down every time, or just flat out ignored me."

Oh.

 _Oh._

You do remember that, actually. A suppressed memory, you suppose. Dave tried to be friendly or talk to you, and you would either ignore him or reply with such sarcasm that he was forced to leave you alone. You were just so pissed at him for the bucket thing, which you're now just realizing he never apologized for. God, how could you forget?

"So," Dave continues, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I started picking on you. It was better than you ignoring me. That way, you gave me your undivided attention. You looked at me, and talked to me, and you looked so alive when you were angry. It was the only solution I could think of to catch your eye. And I'm sorry." He mutters this last bit, and you almost miss it. "I tried dating other people who were as different from you as possible, but it didn't work. Sorry for being such a dick and bullying you into a relationship. I was young and immature and tired of being lovesick, so I'm sorry." He sighs. "And I wanted to keep in touch when I left. Or just sneak you into my suitcase and bring you with me. But I figured you were better off without me in your life. If I was gone, you could move on and get over it and find someone you actually want to date. So, I'll say it one last time, or however many more times it takes for you to believe me." His expression grows serious. "I am _sorry_."

Dave has always had the ability to render you speechless, but this is something else entirely. He pushes his shades up to rest on top of his head, rubbing his eyes wearily before looking at you almost sadly. He looks much older this way. The laugh lines, the bags under his eyes, the heaviness in the set of his expression that makes him seem years ahead of his time. "I'll leave, if you want me to." His voice is quiet, and you pick up a hint in his words. You think he wants you to make him leave. For you to hate him. Call him every name in the book and vow to never cross paths again.

But apparently, you're not good at following guidelines, either.

Instead, you step closer, taking his hand in yours gently. He winces - like your touch burns - but doesn't pull away. You can't see his eyes since they're closed, but you don't need to in order to understand how helpless Dave feels right now. "I don't want you to go." You tell him, voice so soft that you can barely hear it yourself. "Not again." _Never again_ , you want to add, but you don't want to come on too strong so soon and scare him off. Not after Dave finally poured his soul out to you.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his body actually shaking as he does, and he nods, opening his eyes. "Okay." Dave agrees, just as quiet. There's a moment where neither of you speak, both simply staring at the other, before Dave continues. "Can I tell you something?" He asks hesitantly, reaching up to cup your cheek. You love the tenderness of his touch. You missed his warmth so badly, and you hadn't even realized it until he was so close.

You start to nod, then frown, reaching up to push a strand of blond hair out of his face. "Sure." You say, not daring to blink as you stare into his red eyes. They captivate you, nearly glowing in the dim light of the balcony. It's incredible and so like that moment forever ago in his darkroom. You think about that everyday. You were never closer to Dave than you were right that minute with all of his walls crumbled to dust.

As Dave begins to speak, your gaze drops down to his lips. You watch him try to form words, then backpedal and try again, and you watch him stumble over sounds and miss others entirely until, finally, he just sighs and decides to keep it simple.

And he says it.

Three words - the ones you thought he would only tell you in your dreams.

You don't hear him - deafened by the sound of your heart pounding out of your chest. Your vision glows cloudy. You can't breathe. Can't think properly anymore. You're so angry with him. So blindingly furious that you can't stand it. How dare he. How dare he just… disarm you like that! You're drowning with the desire to sink your claws into his chest for breaking you down, but all you manage is curling your hands into fists by your sides as you shake softly. Things like this aren't supposed to happen to you. They only happen in movies and books - to passionate partners, and princess who get swept off their feet, and people _who actually deserve it_. Not to people who are as painfully dull and unremarkable as _you_.

Your anger disappears all at once, leaving you empty. You're still shaking, and you don't realize you're crying until Dave wipes your tears away. They tell him that you're not ready for this. For him. And instead, he's whispering that he's sorry for how he acted, and how he should have made sure you were ready before saying that, and how _he loves you so fucking much that he can't stand it._

You just let him hold you, not objecting as he crushes you against his chest. You're starting to lose track of where he ends and you begin. Does it matter? You want to be closer. You want to lean on him and just forget the burden of emotions and lose yourself in _Dave_.

You've never felt so sober in all your life. It's like you were never really living until you met him. Maybe the fairy tales about love aren't so over exaggerated after all.

When Dave tells you that he's taking you back to your hotel room, you don't object. All of the guests are staying in the same place, so you don't bother asking how he knows where to go. You just pass him your room key when he asks and let him lead you out. Scenery passes in a blur through the car window. Dave doesn't talk. He simply lets you lean against him, his arm wrapped snuggly around your waist. You can't complain. When was the last time he held you this way? You don't remember, just that you missed it so, so much.

When you arrive at your hotel room, he sets you on the bed and you take it upon yourself to get your clothes off. You don't need him to help you with that, too. Your tie finds a home on the ground by your shoes and socks, your formal jacket and stuffy shirt soon following. You kick off your pants, and Dave gives you a funny look. But you go no further, and clad in nothing but your boxers, bury your face in a pillow and makes yourself comfortable beneath the covers. Dave hesitates - not sure what to do - and you pull him down next to you. Because you'd have to be the biggest fucking fool on the planet to let him go a second time.

His arms go around your waist like they belong there, and your face pressed against the crook of his neck feels like interlocking puzzle pieces. All of it is so cheesy. But you don't think that makes it any less meaningful, and you're smiling when you finally drift off to sleep.

When you awake in the morning, Dave isn't there. You panic for a moment - _fuck he didn't leave, did he? -_ before the dim whir of the microwave catches your attention.

"Hey." Dave waves a little when he sees that you're awake, one hand holding a plate of shitty hotel food and the other opening the microwave when those obnoxious beeps start going off. "Hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of getting you some food while you were out like a fucking light." He pulls a cup from the microwave, closing it once more before leaning against the counter. Your eyes are still blurry from sleep, and Dave is a little far away, but nonetheless, you still see a smirk working across his face as he takes a sip from his cup. "You can't handle your alcohol at all, dude." He laughs as he sets the cup down. "Seriously. Have you ever had anything to drink before tonight? Ever?"

You don't respond. You're beginning to think that you cry too much when it comes to Dave.

The red tears slip down your cheeks soundlessly, and you see Dave tense as all amusement vanishes from his expression. Shit, why do you always do this? You're surprised that Dave isn't sick of your shit yet, because despite everything, he still drops what he's doing and hurries over to you. You don't deserve him. You'll never deserve someone like Dave, but fuck it all if you don't want the attention anyway. You've never claimed to not be a selfish person.

"Karkat, shit, what's wrong?" Dave murmurs, his voice anxious as he cups your face and brushes your tears away. Your head pounds dimly just behind your eyes, but you somehow remember last night perfectly. Everything Dave said to you. Seven years after he really should have. So you see no reason why you can't do the same.

You push his hands away, instead latching into his shirt and burying your face in his chest. You're shaking softly, but he doesn't seem to mind as he wraps you in a hug with no hesitation. "Dave." You hiccup, pulling him closer so that he's more or less on top of you. "Dave, I'm sorry, I just- I missed you so fucking much-" Your voice cracks, and you have to pause. It's a little hard to breathe, cry, talk, and press your face into Dave's chest at the same time, but you can live without one of those. Hint: it's not Dave. "S-Seven fucking years, you pretentious fuck, and not a word. I can't believe I love your stupid ass. Oh my God, Dave, I love you so fucking much. You're never allowed to leave me again."

Dave laughs, brushing your hair back to press kisses to your forehead and nose and cheeks and really, anywhere he can get. "Karkat, I love you, too. God, these seven years have been _awful_. Fuck, I'm never going to be that stupid again, I promise. I promise I'm staying this time." He blabbers on, and eventually you're both just repeating "I love you" over and over again and laughing when you're not kissing.

And God, you've never felt this light in your entire life. He's wormed his way under the blanket with you, breakfast forgotten, and he's kissing you slowly and sweetly one moment, and the desperately the next, like he's never going to be able to do this again. There's no ring on his finger. If there was a girl, you would have seen her with him. Either that, or she'll be gone by tomorrow.

You don't rush the kisses, mumbling how much you missed him in between breaths, until finally he has to tell you to shut up and just let yourself be held. You can't object to that. He's yours. Nine years of trying to hate him and hating to love him and resenting him and you can finally say it. Dave is yours, and you're his. You could just repeat that for the rest of your life - it feels so good to say. Love is so underrated. But you don't voice any of this, instead listening to him and just letting yourself be coddled.

Dave pushes his lips against your forehead, murmuring sweet nothings against your skin, and you feel loved.

* * *

 **A/N: Woah, super cheesy ending right there. Hope none of you mind. I was kinda in a rush when I finished this chapter and the last one. I have this great idea for my next DaveKat work that I'm so fucking excited to try out. It's probably been done, but fuck it. I don't care, I'm doing it anyway. You guys underestimate the effort that this shit takes. I also get the feeling that you're overestimating my age. But thanks so much for reading! The following list has been included because music is seriously the only reason I got through these chapters at all.**

 **Songs that inspired this fanfiction:**

" **If I Had You" by Adam Lambert.**

" **Lovesick Fool" by The Cab.**

" **Little Dreams" by Ellie Goulding.**

" **I Need Your Love" by** **Calvin Harris ft. Ellie Goulding**

" **I Won't Say I'm In Love" from Hercules.**

" **Lies" by Marina and the Diamonds.**

" **Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons.**

" **True Love" by P!nk.**

" **Blank Space" by Taylor Swift.**

" **You Look Better When I'm Drunk" by The White Tie Affair.**

" **You Suck At Love" by Simple Plan.**

" **Enchanted" by Owl City.**

" **Can't Help Falling In Love" by Haley Reinhart.**

" **Not In That Way" by Sam Smith.**

 **And a lot of different things by Fall Out Boy.**

 **Final statistics:**

 **Words: 53,172**

 **Characters: 287,965**

 **Characters excluding spaces: 235,452**


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